mmm- : 


3.7.  /^/ 


\*'  PRINCETON,  N.  J.  '^ 


Purchased   by  the    Hamill    Missionary   Fund. 


BV  3625  .M25  F72  1914  c  1 
Fraser,  Donald,  1870-1933 
Winning  a  primitive  people 


WINNING   A    PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE 


m:t^: 


A  Fowl  Housp: 

It  is  made  of  the  bark  of  a  large  tree,  and  is  elevated  on  forked  poles  for  protec- 
tion from  hyenas,  etc.  Fowls  are  the  coppers  of  native  currency  as  cattle  are  the 
gold.     The  barter  price  of  a  fowl  is  about  twopence. 


V 


\>' 


MAR   7  1914 

WINNING   M^:/o..,,  ..^^^ 


A   PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE 

SIXTEEN  YEARS'  WORK  AMONG  THE  WARLIKE 

TRIBE  OF  THE  NGONI  AND  THE  SENGA  AND 

TUMBUKA   PEOPLES  OF  CENTRAL  AFRICA 


DONALD    FRASER 

AUTHOR    OF 
"the    future    of    AFRICA,"    &C. 


WITH    AN    INTRODUCTION    BY 

JOHN   R.  MOTT,  LL.D.,  F.R.G.S. 


WITH    27    ILLUSTRATIONS    ^    2    MAPS 


NEW   YORK 
E.  p.  BUTTON  &   COMPANY 

681   Fifth  Avenue 
1914 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OF 

REV.  DR.  GEORGE  ROBSON 

A  MISSIONARY  STATESMAN 
AND  LEADER 


INTRODUCTION 

By  Dr.  J.  R.  MOTT 

ONE  of  the  outstanding  tasks  of  the  present  genera- 
tion is  that  of  hastening  the  civilization  and 
Christianization  of  Africa.  No  part  of  this 
undertaking  is  more  pressing  than  that  which  concerns 
the  many  tribes  in  the  interior.  The  volume  of  Mr.  Donald 
Fraser,  which  deals  with  a  comparatively  limited  area  and 
population,  sets  forth  with  vividness  and  with  fascinating 
detail  the  facts  essential  to  an  understanding  of  the 
problems  involved  in  the  transformation  of  primitive 
peoples.  Here  one  sees  communities  passing  from  indolence, 
ignorance,  superstition,  and  lawlessness  into  thrift,  intelli- 
gence, reasonable  faith,  and  well-ordered  life.  The  essential 
contribution  made  by  Christian  Missions  in  accomplishing 
these  remarkable  changes  is  illustrated  with  fulness  and 
fairness.  If  one  wishes  to  know  exactly  the  life  and 
work  of  the  modern  missionary  in  Africa,  this  book  will 
show  him. 

Mr.  Fraser  was  one  of  the  founders  of  the  Student 
Christian  Movement  of  the  British  Isles,  and  has  also  done 
much  to  further  missionary  life  and  activity  among  the 
students  of  the  Continent  of  Europe  and  of  North  America. 
The  favour  of  vision  and  the  spirit  of  unselfish  enthusiasm 


INTRODUCTION 

which  enabled  him  to  interest  and  kindle  the  students  of 

Europe  and  America,  manifest  themselves  in  these  pages. 

The  reader  can  hardly  fail  to  be  inspired  to  give  expression 

to   the    larger   knowledge    and    the    fresh    impulses    here 

received. 

J.  R.  M. 


PREFACE 

FEW  books  have  been  published  deaUng  intimately 
with  the  people  of  Nyasaland,  and  still  fewer, 
written  by  residents,  which  describe  the  extra- 
ordinary productive  work  of  missions  in  this  most  interesting 
colony.  The  wild  adventurous  days  have  passed  away,  and 
every  year  is  seeing  great  changes  coming  over  these  primi- 
tive peoples.  Civilization  is  changing  the  whole  social* 
condition  of  the  natives,  and  the  old  tribal  order  is  dis- 
appearing. If  some  account  of  how  these  people  used  to 
live,  and  of  how  the  new  forces  altered  their  conditions,  is 
to  be  given  from  first-hand  knowledge,  it  must  be  given  now. 
My  hope  is  that  this  attempt  to  describe  the  people  as  they 
were,  and  to  relate  in  plain  fashion  the  incidents  of  pioneer 
missionary  work,  may  stimulate  some  of  my  fellow-mission- 
aries to  commit  to  writing  what  they  know  about  the  people 
among  whom  they  live. 

It  has  been  my  privilege  to  live  among  two  typical  races 
of  the  great  continent.  The  one,  the  Ngoni,  are  a  people 
who  were  formed  out  of  the  motley  gathering  of  many  races, 
and  organized  into  a  cohesive  nation  by  the  discipline  of 
war,  and  the  genius  of  great  military  chiefs.  They  originally 
belonged  to  the  nations  who  live  south  of  the  Zambesi,  and 
retain  a  slightly  modified  Zulu  as  their  dialect.  The  history 
of  their  movements  gives  a  key  to  much  that  was  written 
by  Livingstone  in  his  books  of  travel.  And  they  are  typical 
of  the  way  in  which  great  warrior  tribes  have  arisen  in 
Central  Africa,  who,  for  a  time,  have  exercised  an  immense 


8  PREFACE 

influence  on  the  continent.  Some  account  of  the  fiercer  days 
of  their  activity  as  well  as  of  the  hazardous  work  of  the 
mission  in  meeting  their  warlike  designs,  is  given  in 
Dr.  Elmslie's  "  Among  the  Wild  Ngoni."  I  write  of 
the  days  after  the  victory  of  peace  had  been  quietly  won 
by  unostentatious  mission  work. 

The  other  tribe,  the  Tumbuka,  in  whose  land  the  Ngoni 
finally  settled,  are  an  example  of  those  whose  history  is 
being  lost  to  the  world  because,  through  internal  dissensions, 
they  have  ceased  to  have  any  disciplined  unity.  They 
represent  the  weak  and  more  effeminate  tribes  of  Central 
Africa,  and  are  a  strong  contrast  to  the  robust  vehemence 
of  the  warlike  peoples  of  the  South.  Their  customs  give 
one  some  idea  of  the  miserable  social  structure  of  a  tribe 
which  acknowledged  no  ruling  head,  and  which  was  held 
together  by  the  minute  restraints  of  magical  superstitions. 

I  have  endeavoured  to  make  the  conditions  of  life  among 
these  people  more  interesting  by  relating  the  greater  part 
of  the  history  in  the  form  of  personal  narrative,  and  may 
seem,  therefore,  not  to  have  given  the  acknowledgment 
which  is  due  to  my  able  colleagues  in  the  country. 

What  these  regions  owe  to  the  long  and  patient  work  of 
my  fellow-missionaries,  Dr.  Elmslie  and  the  Rev.  Charles 
Stuart,  as  well  as  to  the  others  who  have  given  their  lives 
for  the  regeneration  of  the  people,  no  one  can  estimate. 
And  I,  as  their  appreciative  disciple,  would  pay  my  humble 
debt  of  acknowledgment. 

The  mission  to  which  I  belong  is  the  Livingstonia  Mission, 
which  was  founded  in  1875,  in  memory  of  the  great  African 
traveller.  Its  pioneers  were  the  first  Europeans  to  settle 
in  those  restless  regions,  and  to  hold  the  land  for  civilization 
and  Christianity.  They  were  soon  followed  by  commerce, 
and  then  by  Government,  when  a  Protectorate  was  estab- 
lished by  Lord  Salisbury  in  1890,  in  answer  to  the  urgent 
demands    of   the  missionary   societies,   and    the    colonists. 


PREFACE  9 

whose  presence  was  constantly  threatened  by  inter-tribal 
warfare,  and  the  ravages  of  the  slave-raiders. 

For  years  the  early  missionaries  lived  in  peril  of  their 
lives,  cut  off  for  long  intervals  from  communicating  with 
Europe,  seeing  the  activity  of  slave-traders  along  the  Lake 
shore,  and  threatened  constantly  by  the  wild  plundering 
activities  of  the  Ngoni.  Meanwhile,  the  Arabs  were  pressing 
down  from  three  or  four  different  points,  and  the  whole  of 
the  Lake  regions  were  in  danger  of  becoming  a  great 
Mohammedan  slaving  empire  threatening  disaster  to  the 
defenceless  tribes,  and  menacing  the  progress  of  civilization. 
By  the  timely  occupation  of  strategic  points,  and  the  final 
intervention  of  the  British  Government  with  armed  forces, 
these  perils  were  overcome,  and  to-day  the  tribes  living  to 
the  west  of  the  Lake  Nyasa  live  in  prosperous  security, 
advancing  at  a  great  pace  towards  an  industrial  and  pro- 
gressive civilization.  Mohammedanism  is  scarcely  a  re- 
cognizable quantity  in  any  of  the  tribes  among  which  the 
Livingstonia  Mission  is  stationed,  while  Christianity  is 
rapidly  becoming  the  nominal  religion,  at  least,  of  the  people. 
A  large  educational  system  has  been  developed,  and, 
although  we  have  only  eight  European  stations,  there  are 
787  schools,  and  52,000  pupils  under  our  supervision. 
Thousands  of  the  people  are  able  to  read  and  write.  A  large 
institute  at  Livingstonia,  under  Dr.  Laws,  is  training 
skilled  native  artizans,  teachers,  preachers,  and  these 
people,  who,  a  generation  ago,  were  utterly  barbarous, 
to-day  send  forth  scores  of  builders,  carpenters,  printers, 
clerks,  and  intelligent  helpers  to  the  Europeans  who 
are  rapidly  raising  these  lands  into  commercial  pros- 
perity. 

As  a  Christian  missionary,  I  must  also  record  the  extra- 
ordinary advance  which  our  religion  has  made,  for,  in  it, 
I  believe,  the  hope  of  the  continent  lies.  While  I  acknow- 
ledge the  blessing  of  commerce,  and  good  government,  and 


10  PREFACE 

civilization,  I  cannot  see  that  these  by  themselves  will  ever 
lift  a  savage  people  into  permanent  and  progressive  pros- 
perity, or  emancipate  them  from  the  degrading  super- 
stitions of  animism,  which  only  make  the  veneer  of  Western 
life  ludicrous  and  dangerous.  In  these  regions  the  progress 
that  has  been  made  is  built  upon  a  Christian  foundation, 
and  the  removing  of  old  magical  and  communistic  re- 
straints has  been  accompanied  by  the  creation  of  a  Christian 
law  and  conscience.  There  is  now  a  church  within  our  mis- 
sion with  8,200  members  in  full  communion,  besides  8,500 
catechumens  and  13,000  enquirers.  In  these,  through  the 
power  of  living  religion,  and  its  continual  creation  of  a  new 
social  conscience,  and  its  activity  in  propagating  itself,  will 
be  found  the  guarantee  of  the  future. 

What  is  written  in  this  volume  may  help  to  illustrate  the 
progress  of  this  new  era  which  is  breaking  in  a  land  which 
was  once  so  degraded. 

By  the  courtesy  of  the  editor  of  "  The  Times,"  I  am  able 
to  reproduce  the  chapter  on  annexation  by  the  British 
Government,  from  an  account  of  this  event  which  I  sent 
to  that  paper. 

Finally,  let  me  acknowledge  my  debt  to  those  who  have 
assisted  me  with  this  volume.  To  my  publishers,  for  their 
patience  and  suggestions,  to  my  wife  for  her  revision  of  my 
MS.,  to  the  Rev.  J.  Fairley  Daly,  who  has  placed  at  my 
disposal  the  photographs  taken  by  my  fellow-missionaries. 
I  have  been  unable  to  trace  all  those  whose  photographs 
are  published  now,  but  conspicuous  among  them  are 
Dr.  Elmslie,  W.  Duff  Macgregor,  Rev.  Charles  Stuart, 
Rev.  W.  Murray.  Others  whom  I  have  not  named  will  be 
glad  to  see  their  works  reproduced  here,  if  they  increase 
interest  in  the  effort  to  redeem  the  regions  of  Central  Africa, 
though  I  have  not  acknowledged  them  by  name. 


CONTENTS 


PART   I 
FIRST  EXPERIENCES— THE  NGONI 

PAGE 

I.  Arrival               .                 .                  ...  17 

II.  The  Ngoni         .                 .                  .             .         .  27 

III.  The  Method  of  Warfare                  .              .          .  34 

IV.  Introduction  to  Chiefs    .                 .             .         .  41 
V.  In  the  Bush      .                 .                  ...  56 

VI.  In  a  Village     .                  .                  ...  67 

VII.  Pioneering  among  the  Senga           .             .         .  77 

VIII.   Religious  Awakening        .                  .             .         .  89 

IX.  The  Story  of  a  Filibuster              .             .         .  101 


PART   II 

THE  TUMBUKA 

X.  History  of  the  Tumbuka 

XI.  Religion  of  the  Tumbuka 

XII.  Tumbuka  Natural  Science 

XIII.  Hunting 

XIV.  Diseases 


112 
120 
130 
134 
139 


12 


CONTENTS 


XV.   Birth  to  Death 
XVI.   Legal  Procedure 
XVII.  The  Wisdom  of  the  People 
XVIII.  Modifications 


PAQB 

148 
163 
169 
182 


PART   III 
CHANGES 

XIX.    HORA 

XX.  The  Building  of  a  Village 

XXI.  Loudon 

XXII.  A  Tour 

XXI II.  The  Coming  of  the  Administration 

XXIV.  The  Death  of  a  Chief 
XXV.  Evangelizing 

XXVI.  A  Day  on  the  Station 
XXVII.  A  Wonderful  Convention 
XXVIII.  A  Visit  to  the  Senga   . 
XXIX.  Progress  and  Problems 
Appendices 
Index 


196 
207 
214 
226 
239 
245 
259 
270 
279 
289 
301 
311 
317 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


A  Fowl  House 

Frontispiece 

PAGE 

Fishers 

.       24 

A  Slave  Dhow 

24 

Mending  Nets 

24 

A  Young  Ngoni  Warrior 

88 

Pounding  Maize 

60 

A  Native  Bridge 

60 

Ngoni  Women 

78 

Senga  Women 

78 

Grinding  Meal 

98 

A  Class  of  Girl-boarders  at  Loudon 

.       98 

A  Blacksmith 

114 

Baobab  Tree 

124 

At  Ekwendeni 

.     124 

Tom-tom        .            .            .            . 

154 

A  Convalescent  Home 

154 

My  Washer-woman  in  Gala  Dress 

198 

14 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

Hora  Mountain          .             .             .             .             , 

.     198 

A  Konde  Hut            ..... 

.     208 

A  Brick  Field            ..... 

.     222 

Brick-making  from  an  Ant-liill 

.     234 

Patients  at  the  Mission  Hospital 

.     250 

Loudon  Church          ..... 

.     284 

Interior  Loudon  Church        .... 

.     284 

Loudon  Hospital        ..... 

.     284 

Native  Carpenter's  Work      .... 

.     302 

Weaving  Cloth           ..... 

.     302 

MAP   SHOWING    THE    LOCATION    OF   THE    TRIBES    IN    NVASALAND 


JIAP   SHOWING    THE    WANDEBING3   OF   THE    NGONI 


WINNING  A  PEIMITIVE 
PEOPLE 

PART  I.    FIRST  EXPERIENCES 

CHAPTER  I 

ARRIVAL 

TOWARDS  the  close  of  the  year  1896  I  landed  from  a 
little  Portuguese  coasting  vessel  at  the  Chinde 
mouth  of  the  River  Zambesi,  on  my  way  to  the 
Livingstonia  Mission.  For  three  months  I  had  been 
travelling  round  the  schools  and  colleges  of  the  South 
African  Colonies  and  States,  speaking  on  behalf  of  the 
missionary  enterprise,  and  at  last  I  had  entered  at  the 
gateway  of  the  Africa  of  wild  romance  which  has  always 
appealed  to  every  one  who  has  the  heart  of  a  boy.  In  a  day 
or  two  a  little  flat-bottomed  stern-wheeler,  in  which  I  was 
one  of  three  or  four  passengers,  was  slowly  threading  its 
way  between  the  sand-banks  of  the  great  shining  river,  and 
every  hour  of  the  hot,  fierce  day  was  full  of  new  wonder 
and  interest.  Sometimes  we  passed  a  school  of  great 
hippopotami,  whose  heads  were  showing  above  the  water, 
sometimes  rifles  cracked  at  crocodiles  that  were  sunning 
themselves  on  a  sand  spit,  and  every  day  we  spent  hours 
digging  ourselves  out  of  some  shallow  in  which  the  little 
steamer  had  run  aground. 

B  17 


18  A  WILD   STORM 

We  tied  up  at  the  river-bank  at  night,  and  passed  the 
quiet  hours  till  bed-time,  talking  on  deck,  while  the  fires 
of  the  crew  burned  with  a  golden  light  on  the  shore  by  our 
side,  and  naked  youths  cooked  their  porridge  and  indulged 
in  "  friendly  yells  "  by  way  of  conversation. 

After  ten  days  of  delicious  travel  up  the  Zambesi,  and 
then  north  up  the  Shire  tributary,  we  climbed  for  forty 
miles  to  Blantyre,  where  we  rested  for  a  week  in  a  very 
"  garden  of  the  Lord,"  and  then  travelled  by  "  machilla  " 
to  the  upper  reaches  of  the  Shire.  Here  we  joined  the  little 
stern-wheeler  Monteith,  which  had  just  been  launched,  and 
were  carried  in  her  first  voyage  to  Fort  Johnstone  at  the 
south  end  of  Lake  Nyasa. 

Two  or  three  days'  waiting  was  necessary  in  the  dismal 
swamp  on  which  the  township  at  that  time  stood,  and  then 
we  boarded  the  historic  steamer  Ilala,  and  began  a  week's 
voyage  in  her  confined  quarters,  over  the  wonderful  waters 
of  Lake  Nyasa.  It  was  a  privilege  to  sail  in  this  old  steamer, 
for  she  had  been  the  pioneer  of  all  the  traffic  in  these  inland 
regions.  For  twenty  years  she  had  been  maintaining  com- 
munications between  the  isolated  European  communities 
of  the  Lake  district  and  the  outside  world.  She  had  carried 
missionaries  to  their  lonely  stations,  had  overshadowed  the 
Arab  slave  dhows,  had  brought  soldiers  and  cannon  to  the 
relief  of  beleagured  whites,  and  had  been  shot  at  by  men 
who  would  turn  back  the  advancing  stream  of  civilization. 
Many  and  many  a  time  her  rotting  plates  had  been  renewed, 
fresh  pieces  of  machinery  had  been  introduced,  until  now, 
besides  her  framework,  there  was  little  left  of  her  original 
self. 

On  Christmas  Day  we  were  off  Monkey  Bay  in  a  wild 
storm.  The  waves  were  washing  over  the  vessel  and  send- 
ing floods  of  water  into  the  little  deck-house  which  was  our 
cabin.  In  it  were  crowded  a  table  in  the  centre  and  a  bench 
on  either  side,  converted  in  the  night-time  into  beds  for  the 


KINDLY  AND  CHRISTIAN  SKIPPER    19 

captain  and  his  passenger.  When  the  wind  and  waves  at 
last  proved  too  strong  for  us,  and  we  could  make  no  head- 
way, we  turned  about,  and  ran  for  the  shelter  of  Monkey 
Bay.  Here,  in  a  land-locked  harbour,  where  the  hills  rise 
precipitously  on  either  side,  clad  to  their  summits  with  trees, 
we  found  the  captain  and  engineer  of  the  Domira  lodged  in  a 
little  hut,  and  busily  engaged  in  overhauling  their  ship  which 
was  beached  a  few  yards  off. 

The  night  we  spent  there  eating  our  Christmas  dinner  by 
lamp-light,  under  a  cloud  of  mosquitoes,  moths,  and 
innumerable  flying  insects,  is  one  of  the  marked  days  of  my 
life  in  Central  Africa,  for  there  I  met  "  Captain  "  Chalmers, 
one  of  the  kindliest  and  most  Christian  souls  in  the 
Protectorate.  For  many  years  he  was  skipper  of  the 
African  Lakes  Corporation  steamer  on  Nyasa,  the  personal 
friend  of  every  missionary  who  sailed  its  waters.  Some 
settlers  used  to  laugh  at  his  lack  of  hurry  which  never  saw 
necessity  for  working  his  steamer  on  a  Sunday,  and  at  his 
plans  which  generally  found  him  anchored  near  a  mission 
station  when  the  day  of  rest  came  round.  But  for  natives 
and  Europeans  alike,  there  is  no  more  Christian  figure 
standing  out  in  these  hard  and  deadly  days,  than  that  of 
the  grey-bearded  and  simple  Rothesay  fisherman,  who 
passed  them  on  to  the  ports  of  their  destination  so  cautiously 
and  so  kindly. 

When  we  came  in  sight  of  Bandawe  some  days  after,  all 
the  romance  and  glory  of  mission  life  in  Central  Africa  lay 
before  us.  Far  away  on  that  narrow  plain  beyond  the  shore 
Dr.  Livingstone  had  tramped  with  two  native  companions 
thirty-five  years  before,  seeing  the  putrid  bodies  of  people 
slain  by  the  Ngoni,  and  passing  fugitives  who  were  hiding 
in  stockades  built  within  thickets  which  protected  them 
from  that  bloody  hill  tribe.  Farther  along  the  coast  his 
boat  had  been  chased  by  pirates  in  their  canoes,  and  with 
difficulty  had  escaped. 


20         ROMANCE  OF  MISSION  LIFE 

But  we  steamed  over  a  quiet  lake,  and  as  we  neared  the 
shore  we  could  see  scores  of  canoes  bobbing  in  the  swell 
while  the  fishers  cast  their  nets.  Beyond  a  white  fringe  of 
sand  there  stretched  long  lines  of  native  villages,  and  above 
them  rose  a  green  bank  of  gardens,  and  then  a  wall  of  trees. 
Peeping  through  the  trees  were  the  houses  of  the  mission 
station,  with  their  thatched  roofs  and  wide  verandahs, 
every  one  of  them  speaking  like  a  book  to  those  who  knew, 
telling  of  war  and  peace,  of  hard  work  and  uproarious  fun, 
of  sickness  and  death.  There  had  stayed,  as  guests  or  as 
residents,  men  who  had  hunted  the  wildest  game,  or  fought 
with  Arabs  and  savages  ;  men  who  had  travelled  over  great 
tracks  of  the  interior,  and  had  rested  there  before  plunging 
into  the  unknown,  or  recruited  there  after  months  or  years 
of  hard  and  lonely  adventure.  Men  had  built  those  houses 
and  had  lived  in  them  who  had  seen  the  bloody  slaving  days, 
had  been  through  war  alarms  and  fightings,  had  taught  in 
the  atmosphere  of  cruel  paganism,  and  now  saw  this  day  too, 
when  the  sun  shone  bright  on  the  calm  waters  of  the  lake, 
and  gardens  waved  green  with  abundant  crops,  and  villagers 
worked  and  played  by  the  water's  edge  with  the  shouts  and 
laughter  of  a  perfect  peace. 

There  is  the  rocky  hill  on  the  right  where  the  people  fled  in 
hundreds  before  the  sudden  raid  of  the  Ngoni  impi.  There 
to  the  left  is  the  big  tree  where  a  great  hunter,  who  raced  the 
fleetest  antelopes  on  foot,  used  to  put  on  the  garments  of 
civilization  when  he  made  his  occasional  visit  to  the  mission. 
And  there  below  the  trees  lies  a  little  plot  with  white  crosses 
which  mark  the  graves  of  missionary,  and  hunter,  and  soldier 
who  had  fallen  in  the  fight  to  win  this  fair  land  for  peace. 

The  next  few  days  were  spent  at  Bandawe  amid  the 
continual  hum  of  humanity.  All  day  the  mission  station 
was  never  empty.  When  the  evenings  drew  on  the  sound  of 
village  play  came  to  us  from  all  sides — the  laughing  and 
dancing  of  the  children,  the  lowing  of  cattle,  the  liquid  sounds 


DR.   ELMSLIE  21 

of  the  native  piano  beating  out  its  untiring  rhythm,  and  then, 
as  the  sun  went  down,  horn  and  drum  calhng  villagers  to 
evening  prayer. 

On  New  Year's  day  the  mission  grounds  were  alive  with 
people,  for  an  exhibition  of  native  work  and  produce  had 
been  organized  by  Dr.  Prentice.  Then  followed  the  sports 
— running,  leaping,  canoe  races,  and  a  score  of  different  events 
which  exhibited  a  minimum  of  athleticism  and  a  maximum 
of  laughter  and  good-natured  noise.  Sunday  was  packed 
full  of  meetings,  and  the  meetings  packed  full  of  people. 
When  we  entered  the  crowded  school,  into  which  about  a 
thousand  people  had  squeezed  themselves,  we  were  met 
with  a  blast  of  hot-smelling  air.  The  windows  were  all 
open,  but  were  blocked  by  human  bodies,  and  the  air 
smelled  of  Africans,  and  fish,  and  rancid  oil.  No  wonder 
the  preachers  were  collapsed  and  pale  when  the  evening 
fell. 

In  a  few  days  my  caravan  was  ready,  and  I  started 
towards  the  hills,  for  the  Mission  Council  had  appointed  me 
to  Ngoniland  to  relieve  Dr.  Elmslie,  whose  furlough  was 
due.  It  was  only  a  two  days'  march,  but  surely  more  inter- 
esting than  any  journey  I  had  yet  made  in  all  my  wanderings 
on  tw^o  civilized  continents.  We  passed  through  villages, 
along  the  shore  of  the  lake,  marching  barefoot  through  its 
breaking  wavelets.  We  crossed  rivers  in  canoes,  crept 
through  thickets,  climbed  tree-covered  hills,  spent  a  night 
in  tent  in  the  silence  of  the  woods,  climbed  and  descended 
rolling  savannahs  five  thousand  feet  above  sea-level,  while 
fresh  strong  wind  blew  all  about  us,  and  at  last  plunged 
into  the  scrub  which  proclaimed  the  edge  of  the  inhabited 
plateau  where  the  Ngoni  live. 

An  hour  afterwards  the  little  mission  station  of  Ekwendeni 
suddenly  appeared,  three  grass-roofed  houses  rising  from  a 
sea  of  green-leafed  bush.  Just  as  we  emerged  on  the  open 
space  that  surrounded  the  little  school-church  we  were  met 


22  DAYS   OF  STRESS 

by  Dr.  Elmslie  and  Mr.  Stuart.  It  was  with  some  awe  and 
shyness  that  I  saw  the  two  men  with  whom  I  was  to  spend 
many  years  of  happy  colleagueship.  Dr.  ElmsHc  came  up 
to  welcome  me — a  tall,  thin  Abcrdonian,  dressed  in  an  old 
knickerbocker  suit.  The  last  time  I  had  seen  him  was  one 
wintry  day  five  years  before  when  he  passed  through  our 
Theological  College  quadrangle,  wrapped  in  a  great  overcoat, 
while  the  students  gave  him  ringing  cheers  for  a  never-to-be- 
forgotten  speech  he  had  delivered  in  college  a  few  days 
before.  Mr.  Stuart,  likewise  an  Aberdonian,  notable  for 
sanity  and  thoroughness,  I  saw  now  for  the  first  time. 

We  walked  together  up  the  little  bush-fringed  road  to 
Dr.  Elmslie's  house,  and  there  found  Mrs.  Elmslie,  and  her 
two  little  boys.  And  that  day  I  began  to  know  the  quiet 
heroism,  and  sweet  motherliness  that  have  given  Mrs. 
Elmslie  a  unique  place  among  us. 

We  were  soon  sitting  down  to  tea,  round  a  table  which 
made  one  forget  all  the  ramshackle  untidiness  of  Africa. 
On  the  whitest  of  tablecloths  were  spread  shining  dishes, 
plates  of  cakes  and  scones,  and  home-made  bread,  and 
everything  that  could  make  a  Scots-fed  man  smile  with 
appetite  and  satisfaction. 

When  tea  was  over,  and  darkness  fell,  we  gathered  to- 
gether in  the  study,  and  soon  the  past  and  the  present  of 
these  men  who  had  seen  the  hard  and  patient  days  of  service, 
began  to  float  before  me.  Story  followed  story,  telling  of 
impis  gathering,  preparations  for  flight,  days  of  sore  crisis 
when  a  dark  night  was  spreading  all  about  them.  Days  of 
secret  and  timid  seeking  of  Christ,  when  the  hearts  of  some 
were  touched.  Stories  of  impertinent  harassments  by  the 
chiefs,  of  thieving,  and  fearful  punishments  ;  of  drunkenness 
and  heartless  cruelty  ;  and  stories  too  of  pawky  retaliations, 
of  friendly  interventions,  of  crimes  and  wars  prevented,  of 
a  gradual  breaking  of  light  and  peace.  But  none  of  the 
tales  of  that  night,  and  of  the  nights  that  followed,  thrilled 


A  VIEW  FROM  A  HILL-TOP  23 

me  more  than  when  they  told  of  Dr.  Steel,  whose  vacant 
post  I  had  come  to  fill.  And  I  saw  the  plucky  and  inde- 
fatigable little  man,  regardless  of  his  own  comfort,  moving 
about  with  restless  energy,  enduring  fatigue  and  hunger, 
facing  mighty  odds  undaunted,  healing  and  preaching, 
making  his  long  marches  with  no  impedimenta  but  his 
medicine-box,  a  blanket,  a  pot  and  a  pumpkin,  and  no 
caravan  but  his  single  boy  ;  or  riding  on  his  wilful  donkey 
which  led  him  whither  it  would,  and  dropped  him  in  streams, 
or  threw  him  head  first  into  convenient  bushes  by  the  way  ; 
until  at  last,  worn  with  work,  and  neglect  of  his  own  comfort, 
he  lay  down  and  died  in  this  house  where  we  sat  and  talked. 

During  those  first  days  a  feeling  of  disappointment  came 
over  me.  At  Bandawe  one  had  seen  crowds  of  people,  and 
was  never  free  from  the  sound  of  village  life.  But  here  only 
one  or  two  villages  were  visible  from  the  station,  and  we 
seemed  to  be  set  amid  the  silence  of  the  hills.  When  I  men- 
tioned my  feeling  to  Dr.  Elmslie,  he  rose  and  asked  me  to 
come  with  him.  He  led  me  then  to  a  tree-crowned  hillock 
just  behind  the  station,  and  there  he  opened  my  eyes.  A 
few  yards  below  us  lay  the  little  station  built  in  a  cup  and 
surrounded  by  rising  ground.  But  now  he  show^ed  the  land 
around,  and  helped  me  gradually  to  pick  out  from  the  heavy 
green  bush  that  covered  it,  village  after  village,  until  at  last 
the  whole  landscape  seemed  alive  with  men  and  women. 

To  me  there  is  no  sweeter  scene  in  all  the  world  than  that 
which  may  be  seen  from  this  hill-top,  and  there  the  new 
station  is  now  built.  You  see  what  seems  to  be  a  great 
broken  plain,  through  which  two  or  three  rivers  run.  In  the 
dry  season  it  is  hard  and  barren  looking,  pimpled  with  huge 
bare  ant-hills,  but  when  the  verdure  and  foliage  come  with 
the  rains  its  roughness  is  softened  by  the  sweetest  green. 

Here  and  there  throughout  the  plain  are  large  villages 
from  which  the  smoke  lazily  rises  on  a  quiet  evening,  and 
from  which  you  may  hear,  on  moonlight  nights,  the  thud 


24      A  WOODEN  TOWER  OF  BABEL 

and  manly  defiant  song  of  the  Zulu  dances.  The  landscape 
is  shut  in  ten  or  fifteen  miles  away  by  a  series  of  imposing 
rocky  hills,  whose  outlines  soften  into  most  satisfying 
irregularity  when  the  sun  goes  down  behind  them. 

On  the  left  is  Njenjewe  Mountain,  round  whose  summit 
the  mists  gather  in  rolling  white.  There  the  Tumbuka 
people  built  for  themselves  a  great  tower  to  reach  to  heaven, 
for  there  was  a  flood  all  over  the  land,  they  say.  For  days 
and  weeks  they  cut  the  great  timber  of  the  forest  and  built 
higher  and  higher  till  their  heads  were  in  the  clouds.  But 
all  the  time,  while  they  were  so  busy,  the  little  white  ants 
were  eating  away  the  base  of  the  tower,  and  one  day  when 
all  the  people  were  high  up  building,  the  ants  had  completed 
their  work,  and  down  came  Babel  with  a  mighty  smash  and 
all  were  killed.  And  if  you  won't  believe  the  story,  I  know 
men  who,  with  their  own  eyes  have  seen  the  bones  of  the 
victims,  so  they  say. 

In  front  of  us  stands  Bwabwa,  most  beautiful  of  all,  in  the 
fine  symmetry  of  its  shape.  And  it  too  has  its  tragedy,  for 
thirty  years  ago  or  more  there  was  a  rising  among  the 
Tumbuka,  and  the  rebels  fled  to  its  rocky  summit,  where 
they  were  closed  round  and  slain.  Far  to  the  south, 
twenty-five  miles  away,  if  you  climb  a  little  higher,  you  may 
see  the  top  of  Hora,  a  bare  upright  rocky  hill,  where  scores 
of  these  poor  rebels  fled.  And  to  this  day  you  may  pick  up 
in  the  caves  about  its  summit  the  bones  and  skulls  of  those 
who  perished  of  thirst,  rather  than  come  down  to  the  Ngoni 
army  that  sat  below  and  watched  their  destruction.  Away 
on  the  right  is  a  long  range  of  hills,  and  if  you  look  well  you 
will  see  one  more  than  twenty  miles  off  with  a  rocky  top. 
There  the  sub-god  Chikang'ombe  lives.  He  is  the  god  of 
the  rains  which  come  to  the  Henga  people,  and  he  sits 
among  the  mists  that  creep  about  the  summit,  and  in  the 
wild  cataract  which  rushes  through  the  gorge  below.  Some 
have  seen  him  in  the  old  days.     His  body  is  like  a  great 


A  Slave  Dhow 

This  Arab  boat  is  crossing  th;  lake.  There  were  three  or  four  slave  ferries 
on  the  lake,  by  which  a  continuous  stream  of  slaves  was  carried  across  on 
their  Ions;,  trying  march  to  Zanzibar. 


FlSHEKS 

The  canoes  are  being  pushed  off  for  an  evening's  fishing.  A  heap  of  nets  is  seen  in 
the  nearest  canoe,  and  the  fishers  have  long  bamboo  poles  for  pushing  in  the  shallows. 
The  lake  is  calm,  but  it  is  often  very  rougli,  and  then  no  fish  can  be  got. 


Mending  Nets 

Here  Tonga  fishermen  are  repairing  their  nets  in  the  shade  of  trees.     A  tobacco 
pipe  and  goatskin  pouch  lie  on  the  net  for  their  refreshment. 


THE  GOD  OF  RAINS  25 

snake  and  he  has  the  mane  of  a  lion  at  his  head.  When 
the  wind  rushes  wildly  with  the  thunderstorm,  Chikang'ombe 
is  on  a  journey,  and  you  may  trace  his  goings  by  the  maize 
that  has  been  broken  and  uprooted. 

Farther  north  you  may  see  another  mountain,  clad  on  its 
summit  with  dark  primeval  forest  almost  impenetrable,  and 
there  too  a  great  tower  was  built  to  reach  to  heaven.  But 
the  people  were  building  this  one  because  they  found  the 
land  too  narrow,  and  they  would  seek  new  gardens  in  heaven. 
And  after  they  had  attained  to  a  great  height,  one  cried, 
"  Stop,  we  need  build  no  farther.  See  here  are  roots 
hanging  down  out  of  the  skies."  So  they  seized  the  roots 
and  began  to  climb  hand-over-hand  to  reach  the  new  land. 
Then  when  all  were  clinging  to  the  roots,  the  weight  was 
very  great,  and  the  roots  brake,  and  down  came  all  the 
people  to  earth,  killed,  so  great  was  their  fall.  Around  the 
base  of  the  hill  the  descendants  of  the  few  survivors  of  that 
clan  still  live,  and  trace  back  their  history  to  this  calamity. 
A  week  or  two  after  my  arrival  I  was  walking  alone  by  the 
banks  of  the  Lunyangwa  river  one  day,  half  a  mile  from 
Dr.  Elmslie's  house.  My  imagination  was  alive  with  all  the 
stories  I  had  heard  during  those  evening  talks,  when  I  was 
startled  by  seeing  a  long  line  of  armed  men  coming  down  the 
path  leading  to  the  river.  Each  man  carried  a  great  shield, 
and  a  club  and  spear.  Some  of  them  had  on  their  heads  a 
round  ring  of  waxed  hair,  the  insignia  of  the  married  warrior. 
They  wound  down  the  twisting  path  in  silence,  while  I 
stared  with  wide  open  eyes  at  the  threatening  apparition. 
I  was  not  long  in  turning  and  making  for  home.  But  I  had 
not  been  seated  many  minutes  on  the  verandah  when  the 
band  of  warriors  arrived,  and  they  marched  up  to  the  house, 
and  squatted  solemnly  before  it. 

Dr.  Elmslie  came  out  and  sat  down. 

"  Sinibona  (we  see  you),"  he  said  in  a  dry  voice. 

"  Yebo  (yes),"  they  answered  in  strong  bass  as  one  man. 


26  MISUNDERSTANDING 

When  these  formal  greetings  were  over,  they  began  to 
state  their  business.  And  when  they  had  finished  the 
doctor  told  me  who  they  were,  and  what  they  wanted. 
There  were  Muzukuzukii,  the  chief  at  Hora,  and  his  men. 
For  three  years  a  European  had  been  stationed  among  them, 
and  had  then  been  removed  to  the  Tanganyika  Plateau, 
but  when  he  went  a  promise  had  been  made  that  another 
would  be  sent  some  day  to  take  his  place.  And  I  had  been 
appointed,  and  my  boxes,  which  had  preceded  me,  had  all 
been  sent  on  there,  but  now  carriers  had  gone  on  to  bring 
them  back  to  Ekwendeni.  So  Muzukuzuku  had  come  to 
protest  against  his  European  being  taken  from  him. 

Dr.  Elmslie  explained  that  he  was  about  to  leave  for 
Scotland  on  furlough,  and  he  thought  it  was  not  wise  to 
place  a  young  man  just  out  from  home  all  alone  at  Hora, 
and  it  was  better  that  I  should  be  at  Ekwendeni  with 
Mr.  Stuart  for  some  time.  The  matter  was  argued  back 
and  forward,  but  the  Hora  people  were  not  satisfied.  Yet 
Dr.  Elmslie  wisely  would  not  yield.  Then  a  young  bullock 
was  brought  along  and  given  to  the  strangers  to  eat  in  the 
evening,  and  they  shouted  their  thanks  and  retired. 

And  thus  I  met  those  who  were  to  be  my  neighbours  and 
best  friends  for  many  a  year  to  come,  yet  at  the  river  I  had 
turned  from  them,  as  if  they  were  men  coming  with  wicked 
designs.  And  the  little  incident  was  but  a  repetition  of 
many  a  similar  misunderstanding,  from  the  days  when 
da  Gama's  Portuguese  sailors  fled  from  the  hospitable 
Hottentots  at  False  Bay  to  these  present  days,  when  foolish 
men  have  called  the  native  talking  jabbering,  their  courtesy 
impudence,  their  gods  demons,  or  have  trembled  and  fled 
before  their  playful  but  excited  mimicry,  and,  calling  it 
dangerous  threatening,  have  drawn  fire-arms  or  summoned 
English  regiments. 


CHAPTER   II 

THE  NGONI 

THE  story  of  the  Ngoni  is  a  modern  reproduction  of 
what  happened  in  Europe  in  the  days  of  the  Roman 
Empire,  and  of  what  was  happening  all  over  Africa 
during  the  past  three  centuries.  It  explains  many  a  linguistic 
and  racial  riddle.  And  as  probably  no  great  raid  in  the 
prehistoric  times  of  Africa  can  be  traced  with  as  great 
accuracy,  it  would  be  well  that  every  step  of  the  progress  of 
this  restless  tribe,  and  the  influences  left  behind,  should  be 
minutely  followed  and  recorded  by  some  patient  searcher. 
That  task  I  shall  not  attempt  in  this  chapter,  but  that  some 
appreciation  may  be  given  of  the  people  among  whom  we 
have  been  working,  let  me  record  this  general  sketch  of 
their  movements. 

The  first  quarter  of  last  century  saw  the  uprising  of 
organized  warrior  tribes  south  of  the  Zambesi.  First 
among  these  was  the  Zulu  nation,  a  people  who  were  built 
out  of  numerous  fragments  by  Chaka  their  chief,  and  for  a 
few  years  carried  on  a  series  of  conquering  raids  which  were 
almost  irresistible.  Their  progress  set  the  tribal  system  of 
South  Africa  into  motion.  Clans  were  annihilated,  others 
incorporated  into  the  Zulu  nation,  others  driven  forth  from 
their  ancestral  domains  to  wander  far  in  search  of  security. 

Ambitious  generals  broke  away  from  Chaka,  and  formed 
new  clans  of  banditti,  who  raided  weaker  tribes,  fusing  them 
into  their  own,  or  wiping  them  out.  Thus,  great  tribes  like 
the  Bechuana  moved  on  to  new  territory,  famous  warriors 

27 


28  SHORT-LIVED  NATIONS 

like  the  Makololo,  and  the  Mantiti  arose,  fought,  flourished, 
and  fizzled  out.  The  history  of  almost  all  the  great  nations 
of  Africa  seems  seldom  to  extend  beyond  the  third  genera- 
tion. A  mighty  organizer  and  fighter  arises,  and  carves 
out  a  kingdom  for  himself,  and  reigns  for  a  few  years,  dying 
in  debauchery  and  cruelty.  The  succession  is  disputed, 
and  the  strongest  claimant  fights  his  way  to  the  throne,  but 
at  the  cost  of  much  blood,  and  the  loss  of  large  sections  of 
tributaries.  He  proves  himself  far  from  equal  to  his  father, 
and  the  oppressions  and  killings  by  which  his  father  main- 
tained his  power  must  be  increased,  or  authority  will  dis- 
appear. Then  he  dies,  and  the  succession  is  again  disputed, 
with  the  result  that  the  unity  of  the  tribe  is  destroyed. 
The  new  chief  succeeds  to  a  disintegrated  people,  and  has 
no  power  to  reorganize  them,  and  his  kingdom  disappears 
before  some  new  avalanche. 

Out  of  the  welter  of  South  African  revolutions,  a  small 
army  of  people  called  the  Ngoni  (which  name  might  be 
translated  "  the  foreigners  ")  appeared  on  the  banks  of  the 
Zambesi  nearly  eighty  years  ago.  They  were  a 
heterogeneous  company  composed  of  gatherings  from  the 
Swazi,  Mashona,  Suto,  Tonga,  and  many  other  tribes,  led 
by  Zongwendaba  Jere.  For  several  years  they  had  been 
fighting  and  wandering  south  of  Zambesi,  and  already  had  left 
behind  them  a  section  under  Mungwara,  a  Karanga  leader. 
One  day  when  there  was  a  total  eclipse  of  the  sun 
Zongwendaba's  followers  crossed  the  Zambesi  near  Zumbo 
and  marched  into  the  country  of  the  Senga,  a  feeble  people 
who  were  unable  to  resist  them.  So  they  took  their  land, 
and  for  six  years  remained  there,  incorporating  many  of 
that  tribe  into  the  regiments.  They  must  have  gathered  a 
number  of  their  medicine-men  especially,  for  to-day  nearly 
all  the  witch-doctors  of  the  Ngoni  are  Senga. 

In  an  appendix  I  have  traced  the  general  movement  of 
this  fighting  horde,  and  the  disruptions  that  took  place, 


NGONI  IMPIS  29 

until  all  the  Central  African  regions  from  Victoria  Nyanza  to 
Lake  Nyasa  have  to-day  some  remnants  of  this  wild  people 
who  are  known  as  Mazitu,  Maviti,  Mangwangwara,  Ngoni, 
etc.  For  this  general  narrative  it  is  sufficient  to  say  that 
they  fought  their  way  north  until  they  came  within  sight 
of  Victoria  Nyanza  at  Speke  Gulf.  Then  they  were  driven 
back  by  famine,  and  internal  dissensions,  until  the  main 
body  under  the  leadership  of  Mombera,  arrived  on  that 
plateau  lying  to  the  west  of  Lake  Nyasa,  where  they  are 
to-day. 

When  they  appeared  in  the  Hcnga  Valley  sixty  years 
ago,  I  do  not  suppose  that  they  mustered  two  thousand 
fighting  men,  and  these  must  have  been  an  extraordinarily 
motley  crowd.  There  were  Suto  from  the  far  south,  Sukuma 
from  the  neighbourhood  of  Victoria  Nyanza,  and  pickings 
from  nearly  all  the  tribes  they  had  fought  in  their  march 
of  two  thousand  miles  during  those  twenty  years.  But 
they  had  two  great  advantages  over  every  tribe  they 
conquered.  First,  they  had  the  Zulu  stabbing-spear  and 
great  hide  shield,  whereas  the  Central  African  tribes  had 
only  their  bows  and  arrows.  And  again  they  were  a  dis- 
ciplined people  under  a  central  authority,  while  the  local 
tribes  had  no  power  of  combination.  Many  of  the  clans  of 
Central  Africa  spoke  a  common  language  perhaps,  but  they 
were  divided  up  among  numerous  chieftains,  each  jealous 
of  the  other.  Nay,  a  process  of  disintegration  was  so 
effectually  at  work  in  some  tribes,  that  families  lived  by 
themselves  on  their  own  garden  patch,  acknowledging  no 
chief  and  no  authority.  Consequently,  the  Ngoni  were  not 
long  in  making  themselves  masters  of  the  whole  country. 
They  built  their  villages  in  the  hills,  but  sent  out  their 
impis  every  year  to  the  Tonga  by  the  Lake  shore,  the 
Chewa  to  the  south,  the  Senga  to  the  west,  and  the  Henga 
to  the  north.  These  impis  returned  with  tribute  of  ivory 
or  cattle,  or  with  a  train  of  captives  whom  they  had  taken 


30  LANGUAGE 

alive  from  the  Gehenna  of  villages  and  people  they  had  left 
behind  them.  The  captives  were  incorporated  in  the  tribe, 
and  the  lobes  of  their  ears  bored  after  the  manner  of  the  Ngoni. 
The  autochthones,  such  as  the  Tumbuka,  Nyika,  Henga, 
etc.,  became  part  of  the  tribe,  and  the  young  men  Avere 
drilled  for  the  regiments.  Thus  the  northern  Ngoni  grew 
from  a  few  thousand  to  more  than  a  hundred  and  twenty 
thousand. 

Although  the  proportion  of  men  and  women  who  had 
come  from  south  of  the  Zambesi,  or  were  their  descendants, 
was  very  slight,  the  language  used  on  all  public  occasions, 
and  indeed  generally  in  village  life,  was  Chingoni,  a  slightly 
modified  Zulu.  It  was  this  language  the  missionaries  spoke, 
and  in  it  all  the  education  was  conducted.  In  this  the 
Ngoni  enjoyed  a  peculiar  advantage  over  all  the  Central 
African  tribes  when  mission  work  was  opened  among  them, 
for  they  found  at  once  a  literature  prepared  for  them  in  the 
books  of  South  Africa,  and  especially  in  the  Zulu  Bible. 
When  we  remember  that  not  another  tribe  in  all  these 
regions  has  yet,  after  thirty  years'  mission  work,  got  the 
entire  Bible  in  its  own  language,  we  see  how  favoured  was 
this  people  who  at  once  received  so  great  a  gift  in  a  tongue 
they  could  understand. 

The  tribal  organization,  too,  took  on  the  form  to  which 
the  Ngoni  masters  were  accustomed.  There  was  the 
paramount  chief  Mombera,  to  whom  the  royal  salutation 
"  Bayete,"  was  given.  And  he  had  his  group  of  indunas. 
Each  one  of  these  indunas  had  his  own  villages,  and  a  council 
of  grown  men  to  support  him  when  he  sat  in  the  kraal  to 
hear  his  village  cases.  The  great  indunas  were  saluted  with 
the  cry  "  Nkomo."  They  supported  the  paramount  chief 
and  assisted  him  when  he  held  his  judicial  court.  Under 
these  great  indunas  were  other  lesser  headmen  in  charge  of 
smaller  villages.  Besides  the  great  chief  Mombera,  there 
were  three  other  chiefs,  sons  of  Zongwendaba,  who  exer- 


SERFS  31 

cised  complete  control  over  their  own  people,  and  sometimes 
were  not  very  loyal  to  one  another,  or  to  the  paramount 
chief.  These  were  Mtwaro,  with  Ekwendeni  as  his  head 
village  ;  Maurau,  with  Elangeni  as  his  head  village  ;  and 
Mperembe,  with  Emcisweni  as  his  head  village.  These 
three  chiefs  had  also  a  completely  organized  state  under 
them,  similar  to  that  of  the  great  chief  ;  but  their  indunas 
.  had  neither  the  same  dignity,  nor  a  special  salutation. 

Some  of  the  headmen  and  petty  chiefs  gained  a  great 
place  for  themselves  by  their  activity  in  raiding.  Their 
villages  and  cattle  increased  so  that  their  personal  power 
seemed  sometimes  to  threaten  the  authority  of  their  chief. 

The  civil  organisation  of  the  tribe  was  a  very  orderly  and 
efficient  system,  provided  a  strong  and  active  chief  con- 
trolled. But  the  control  was  certainly  not  one  engendered 
by  confidence  in  the  justice  or  moral  standard  of  the  ruler. 
It  was  partly  due  to  sheer  terror  of  him,  and  partly  to  that 
clannish  loyalty  to  the  chief  which  is  so  deeply  inbred  in  the 
African. 

The  lowest  class  of  the  tribe  was  the  serfs.  They  were 
recent  captives,  and  were  the  "  children  "  of  one  of  the 
warriors.  He  acted  as  father  and  master  to  them,  calling 
them  ahke  his  "  slaves  "  and  his  "  children."  They  had 
to  give  him  service,  such  as  helping  to  build  his  house,  to 
hoe  his  garden,  etc.,  and  he  made  what  claim  he  pleased  on 
their  property.  The  masters,  on  the  other  hand,  had  certain 
obligations  towards  their  serfs.  They  built  beside  one 
another,  and  lived  much  as  one  family.  The  owner  pro- 
vided wives  for  them,  but  claimed  the  children  born  as  his 
property,  and  w^hen  the  vassal  got  into  difficulties,  the 
master  defended  his  case,  and  paid  what  fines  were  imposed. 
The  social  construction,  therefore,  was  as  follows.  Over  the 
serfs  were  the  masters.  Over  the  whole  village  was  the 
headman.  He  judged  the  petty  cases  and  quarrels  that 
arose   in   his   village.     Over  a  group  of  villages  were  the 


32  CIVIL  ORGANIZATION 

indunas,  who  judged  the  appeals  against  the  headmen, 
and  quarrels  between  villages.  Over  the  indunas  were  the 
chiefs  to  whom  the  final  appeal  was  made,  and  all  com- 
plicated cases  brought.  But  in  the  council  of  the  chief  the 
indunas  sat  not  as  assessors  but  judges,  with  power  enough 
to  gainsay  and  overthrow  the  decision  which  the  chief 
might  pronounce,  if  it  did  not  agree  with  their  sense  of  right. 
The  chief  might  be  despotic  enough,  and  terrorize  his  people 
into  a  dumb  submission,  but  often  the  indunas  defied  his 
ruling  and  compelled  him  to  take  their  view  of  matters. 
The  civil  indunas  were  men  of  great  power,  and  were  all 
emigrants  from  south  of  the  Zambesi.  But  besides  them 
there  were  appointed  to  lead  out  the  impis  many  war 
indunas,  some  of  whom  were  originally  slaves,  and  belonged 
to  the  local  Nyasa  tribes.  Of  such  was  Ng'onomo,  who 
though  he  had  no  voice  in  council,  was  often  appointed 
general  of  the  entire  fighting  force.  And  when  he  led,  the 
great  civil  indunas  who  went  forth  with  their  regiments 
were  under  his  authority. 

At  the  time  of  their  coming  among  the  Henga  and 
Tumbuka,  the  war  organization  of  the  Ngoni  was  still  pretty 
rigid.  The  young  men  were  gathered  together  in  villages 
by  themselves,  and  compelled  to  abstain  from  many  of  the 
pleasures  of  life.  They  were  allowed  neither  to  marry  nor 
to  drink  beer,  and  were  continually  drilled  in  military 
exercises.  But  this  strict  discipline  soon  began  to  disappear. 
The  wars,  with  the  Lake  people  especially,  thinned  their 
ranks,  and,  at  the  same  time,  thousands  of  the  more 
effeminate  local  people  were  being  incorporated  in  the 
nation.  Consequently,  though  for  many  years  the  Ngoni 
insisted  on  their  own  language  being  spoken,  scorning  the 
tongues  of  Central  Africa,  and  though  up  to  this  day  they 
still  retain,  in  general,  their  old  civil  organization,  they  were 
gradually  submerged  by  the  new  elements  which  they 
introduced.     The  rigid  social  morality  became  weakened 


A  WEAKENING  PEOPLE  33 

by  the  lower  tone  of  the  local  tribes,  and  the  slave  mothers 
could  never  learn  dignified  Chingoni,  but  spoke  their  own 
vernacular  to  their  children.  Dances,  beer,  indiscriminate 
mixing  of  the  sexes,  looser  family  ties,  rebelliousness  to 
authority,  were  all  insidiously  softening  the  character  of 
the  people.  And  the  regiments,  composed  almost  entirely 
now  of  men  of  the  surrounding  tribes  and  no  longer  segregated 
or  strictly  drilled,  ceased  to  present  the  old  muscular  and 
defiant  appearance.  Livingstone  laughed  at  the  wretched 
mimicry  of  the  South  African  impi,  when  he  saw  these 
Nyasaland  people  under  the  headdress  of  cock  feathers, 
and  carrying  Chaka's  spear  and  shield. 


CHAPTER   III 

THE  METHOD  OF  WARFARE 

EVERY  year  about  harvest  time  a  great  national 
raid  was  made  by  the  combined  regiments  of  the 
tribe,  and  this  was  the  method  of  their  going  forth. 

The  indunas  of  Ekwendeni  village  perhaps,  hold  a  council 
and  decide  that  an  attack  shall  be  made  on  a  certain  tribe. 
When  they  have  agreed  on  this  they  send  messengers  to 
Elangeni,  the  head  village  of  another  great  chief,  and  ask 
if  they  will  join  in  the  contemplated  campaign.  Their 
willingness  signified,  they  all  go  in  a  body  to  Echigodhlweni, 
the  royal  village  of  the  tribe,  to  meet  with  the  indunas  of 
the  paramount  chief,  tell  them  of  their  design,  and  ask  for 
their  co-operation.  After  some  talk  a  compact  is  made 
that  a  national  expedition  shall  be  undertaken. 

Some  days  after  the  war-herald  of  the  great  chief  is 
dispatched  secretly  in  the  evening  to  Elangeni  village, 
and  at  dawn,  before  the  people  have  come  forth  from  their 
huts,  he  suddenly  appears  standing  on  the  great  ant-hill 
in  the  centre  of  the  cattle  kraal.  He  carries  in  his  left 
hand  his  shield  and  assegai,  and  in  his  right  he  holds 
aloft  a  knob-kerry.  Before  any  villager  has  become  aware 
of  his  presence,  he  cries  aloud  with  a  long-drawn  shout, 
resting  on  the  last  syllable  : 

"  Mu  yezwa  na  ?  "  (Arc  you  hearing  ?) 

Immediately  all  sounds  of  sleepy  talk  cease  within  the 
huts  that  lie  around,  and  a  great  silence  falls  upon  the 
village.     After  a  pause  the  herald  again  cries  aloud,  "  Thus 


THE  WAR  HERALD  35 

he  saith.  Let  the  meal  be  ground.  To-morrow  the  chief 
goes  forth." 

And  when  the  message  is  given,  he  drops  down  from  the 
ant-hill  and  hurries  off  into  the  bush  before  anyone  has 
seen  him,  making  his  way  back  to  the  paramount  chief. 

The  village  is  soon  astir  with  bustle  and  excitement,  for 
all  know  that  these  simple  words  mean  that  preparations 
must  at  once  begin  for  a  great  national  raid.  Messengers 
are  dispatched  to  all  the  other  sub-chiefs  and  head  men, 
telling  them  of  the  summons  to  war,  and  for  the  next 
week  the  women  are  busy  all  day  pounding  maize  meal  for 
the  journey,  while  men  see  to  their  armaments  and  war 
dress. 

Six  or  seven  days  after  his  first  appearing,  when  the 
dawn  is  breaking  on  the  eastern  hills,  the  village  is  again 
startled  into  a  great  silence  by  the  shout  of  the  war-herald 
on  the  ant-hill.     And  this  time  he  cries  : 

"  Mu  yezwa  na  ?  To-morrow  let  the  snuff  be  ground,  for 
on  the  following  day  he  goes  forth." 

Then  the  preparations  are  completed,  and  on  the  third 
day  the  village  regiments  start  out,  going  only  about  two 
miles,  and  erecting  there  their  sleeping  sheds. 

The  village  that  had  suggested  the  expedition  leads  the 
way,  making  for  an  appointed  rendezvous,  and  there  they 
wait  until  all  the  regiments  of  the  tribe  have  assembled. 
When  all  is  ready  they  start  forth  in  long  parallel  ribbons 
of  Indian  file,  which  stretch  out  with  a  front  perhaps  a 
mile  broad.  In  the  centre  of  the  army  the  boys  and  girls 
march,  carrying  on  their  heads  goat-skins  crammed  with 
meal,  and  grain  for  the  brewing  of  beer  for  the  chiefs.  They 
march  at  first  for  fifteen  or  twenty  miles  a  day,  until  they 
come  within  two  or  three  days'  journey  of  the  stockaded 
villages  that  are  to  be  attacked.  Then  their  approach 
becomes  very  cautious,  scouts  being  chosen  who  go  ahead 
of  the  army  for  four  miles  or  so.     When  they  see  that  all  is 


36  PREPARING  FOR  A  RAID 

clear,  they  sit  down  to  wait  the  coming  of  the  main  body, 
and  thus  they  advance  all  day  by  short  stages. 

At  last  the  villages  appear  in  the  near  distance,  and  all 
secrecy  of  approach  is  abandoned.  The  men  of  war  muster 
on  rising  ground  within  full  sight  of  the  doomed  dwellings, 
and  there  display  their  full  strength  to  the  terrified  victims. 
Booths  are  thrown  up  extending  for  eight  or  ten  miles, 
where  the  warriors  and  their  servants  may  sleep. 

For  a  fortnight  the  regiments  quietly  wait,  while  the 
villagers  gather  all  their  possessions  within  the  stockade, 
and  prepare  themselves  for  the  defence  of  their  lives  and 
property.  At  last  the  enforced  idleness  can  no  longer  be 
borne,  and  the  indunas  gather  to  the  general  in  command 
and  demand  that  he  order  an  assault.  But  he  only  replies 
that  they  return  to  their  quarters  for  two  days  more,  and 
then  meet  him  again.  When  the  stipulated  time  is  up,  the 
regimental  indunas  again  assemble  before  the  general  and 
urge  an  instant  attack.  And  that  evening  the  war-herald 
is  sent  out  to  all  the  booths,  and  shouts  to  the  eager  warriors 
that  they  must  prove  themselves  to  be  men,  and  sharpen 
their  spears,  for  in  the  morning  the  onslaught  will  be 
made. 

Next  day  the  regiments  are  all  drawn  up  in  a  great  circle, 
and  the  general  stands  forth  in  the  midst  and  details  the 
order  of  advance.  The  "  Chikwichi  "  regiment  is  to  open 
the  attack.  Then  the  "  Izinkabi " '  are  to  f  oIIoav,  and  then  the 
"  Mahamba,"  and  so  on.  But  none  are  to  engage  in  combat 
until  the  premier  regiment,  the  "  Chikwichi,"  has  climbed  the 
stockade  or  been  broken.  The  "  Chikwichi  "  are  now  dancing 
in  wild  impatience.  They  have  a  great  reputation  to 
maintain,  and  they  seize  their  reed  pipes,  and  having 
blown  a  great  blast  with  them,  rush  forward  with  shrill 
whistles  and  defiant  shouts. 

The  miserable  villages  meet  their  assault  with  a  cloud  of 
arrows,  which  do  little  damage  to  the  warriors  behind  their 


AN  ASSAULT  37 

great  shields,  but  when  a  volley  from  old  tower-guns  blazes 
forth  from  close  quarters  many  a  hot-blooded  young  man 
is  stretched  on  the  ground.  The  attack  now  waxes  furious, 
and  the  general,  who  stands  on  an  ant-hill  near  directing  the 
operations,  sees  that  the  ranks  of  the  best  regiment  are  being 
thinned,  and  orders  the  "  Chikwichi "  to  return,  sending  in 
immediately  the  "  Izinkabi."  By  and  by  the  people  within 
the  stockade  are  showing  signs  of  weakness.  Their  guns 
cannot  be  reloaded  quickly,  and  their  arrows  are  ineffective. 
The  general  sees  that  the  men  are  wavering,  and  the  women 
preparing  for  flight,  so  he  lifts  up  his  voice  and  shouts  : 
"  The  stockade  is  broken,"  and  with  a  roar  the  whole  army 
dashes  forward  to  the  palisade.  The  warriors  are  soon 
swarming  over  it,  and  the  villagers,  terror-stricken,  are 
fleeing  hither  and  thither  for  safety  in  the  cage  within  which 
they  have  closed  themselves.  The  young  Ngoni  bloods 
rush  about  slaying  with  their  short  sharp  spears  ;  they 
have  no  need  for  taking  slaves  alive,  for  they  have  no 
households  requiring  service.  But  the  married  warriors 
are  keener  on  captives  than  on  blood,  and  they  seize  as 
many  children  and  able-bodied  women  as  they  can  rescue 
alive. 

The  property  of  the  captured  village  goes  to  the  first 
claimant.  One  warrior  rushes  up  to  the  gate  of  the  cattle 
kraal,  and  shouting  "  I  am  first,"  takes  his  stand  there,  to 
defend  his  right  to  the  rich  booty  within.  Another  follows, 
and  cries,  "  I  am  second,"  and  he  takes  his  stand  with  the 
first,  and  proves  his  right  to  share  with  him.  But  there  is 
no  third.  In  a  few  minutes  every  living  thing  and  all  the 
property  are  in  the  hands  of  claimants,  and  the  village  has 
changed  masters. 

The  army  now  settles  down  in  the  captured  village, 
and  refreshes  itself  with  the  spoils  of  food  that  have  been 
seized,  and  the  girls  busy  themselves  preparing  meal  for  the 
return  journey.     On  the  day  after  the  assault  the  attacking 


38  THE  RETURN  JOURNEY 

regiment  is  summoned  before  the  general  to  give  an  account 
of  the  action.  They  describe  how  so  and  so  was  slain 
outside  the  stockade,  and  how  his  body  was  rescued  and 
carried  out  of  the  zone  of  danger.  And  then  they  name  the 
warrior  who  had  first  been  successful  in  mounting  the 
palisade,  and  tell  how  he  had  dipped  his  spear  in  the  blood  of 
some  victim,  and  he  is  then  publicly  proclaimed  as  "  Master 
of  the  Stockade." 

During  the  week  or  two  that  the  army  is  resting,  com- 
panies patrol  the  village  all  night  in  watches  of  four  or  five 
hours.  And  during  the  day  the  premier  regiment  of  the 
villages  that  summoned  the  expedition  scours  the  neigh- 
bourhood in  search  of  further  booty. 

At  last  the  journey  home  is  begun.  The  order  of  the 
march  is  reversed,  and  the  warriors  who  led  the  van  in  the 
journey  out  now  take  up  their  position  in  the  rear.  Scouts 
are  sent  ahead,  and  the  long  march  back  is  performed  in  all 
haste,  for  food  soon  gives  out,  and  hunger  is  driving  the 
warriors  back  with  as  little  delay  as  possible. 

When  the  impi  is  within  two  or  three  days  of  home,  three 
men  are  selected  representing  each  of  the  head  villages,  and 
are  sent  on  ahead  to  give  the  chief  the  news  of  the 
expedition.  They  travel  by  night  only,  and  during  the 
day  they  hide  in  the  scrub  that  no  one  may  see  them.  At 
length  they  arrive  at  Echigodhlweni  in  the  dead  of  night, 
go  quietly  to  the  hut  where  the  head  induna  is  sleeping, 
tell  him  how  they  have  conquered,  and  name  the 
warriors  who  have  been  slain  in  the  fight.  The  induna  then 
leads  them  to  the  chief's  house,  and  rousing  him  from  sleep 
gives  him  the  same  news.  And  when  the  whole  story  has 
been  told,  the  chief  accounts  for  any  deaths  that  have 
happened  in  the  village  during  the  absence  of  the  expedi- 
tion. Then  the  messengers  leave  secretly,  speaking  with 
no  other  in  the  village,  and  make  their  way  back  to  the 
impi. 


A  Young  Ngoni  Warrior 

He  is  wearing  the  ija/ia's  (lad's)  headdress  of  cock  feathers,  wiih  a  skullcap  of  small 
beads.     His  shield  and  spear  are  somewhat  degenerate  specimens. 


A  VICTORIOUS  ARMY  39 

A  day  or  two  later  the  victorious  army  approaches  the 
royal  village,  and  when  they  are  within  a  mile  or  so  they 
sit  down  by  the  banks  of  a  stream  to  cook  and  eat.  Those 
who  have  slain  a  human  being  smear  their  body  and  arms 
with  white  clay,  but  those  who  were  not  the  first  to  dip 
their  spears  in  the  blood  of  the  victims,  but  had  merely 
assisted  in  the  slaying,  whiten  their  right  arms  only.  At 
the  stream  they  rest  for  one  day,  and  on  the  following 
morning  the  regiments  are  all  drawn  up  in  order,  and  advance 
to  the  royal  village,  each  one  singing  its  own  war-song,  and  so 
enter  the  enormous  open  cattle  kraal  where  the  chief  and 
his  people  are  awaiting  them. 

When  all  are  gathered  inside,  the  general  stands  forth 
and  tells  the  chief  who  were  killed  in  the  first  assault,  and 
names  the  young  blood  who  first  climbed  the  stockade  and 
slew  a  villager  within.  This  hero  now  advances  dancing. 
He  holds  in  his  hand  the  bow  or  gun  of  the  man  he  killed, 
or  if  his  victim  was  a  woman  he  carries  her  pounding  stick. 
And  Mombera  acknowledges  him  as  the  hero  of  the  fight, 
and  orders  his  men  to  give  him  a  bullock  as  a  signal  token 
of  his  princely  admiration. 

When  all  the  dancing  is  over,  announcement  of  the  deaths 
is  made,  and  public  weeping  for  the  slain  begins.  But  all 
through  the  long  ceremony  parents  have  been  quietly 
glancing  through  the  regiments,  seeking  for  the  shields  of 
their  sons,  and  some  who  could  not  see  there  the  familiar 
marks  of  their  children's  arms,  have  been  sitting  with  heavy 
hearts,  but  not  daring  to  express  their  emotions. 

The  warriors  who  have  slain  others  sleep  that  night  in 
the  open  kraal  with  the  cattle,  and  do  not  venture  near  their 
own  homes.  In  the  early  morning  they  run  again  to  the 
stream,  shouting  the  alarm  cries  of  their  enemies,  and  wash 
off  the  white  clay  with  which  they  have  bedaubed  them- 
selves. The  witch-doctor  is  there  to  give  them  some  magic 
medicine  to  drink,  and  to  smear  their  bodies  with  a  fresh 


40  A  ROLL  CALL 

coating  of  clay.  For  six  days  the  process  is  repeated,  until 
their  purification  is  completed.  Their  trappings  and  war 
dress  are  hung  up  on  a  tree,  the  head  is  shaved,  and,  being 
pronounced  clean,  they  are  at  length  allowed  to  return  to 
their  own  homes. 


CHAPTER   IV 

INTRODUCTION  TO  CHIEFS 

WHEN  I  arrived  in  the  country  the  national  raids 
had  ceased,  though  smaller  independent  ex- 
peditions were  still  dispatched,  but  with  some 
secrecy.  Many  things  had  contributed  to  this  comparative 
pacification.  One  was  a  fearful  defeat  that  the  impis  had 
received  at  the  Lake,  whither  they  had  gone  in  pursuit  of 
some  fugitives.  Many  of  the  surrounding  peoples,  also,  had 
been  growing  confident  through  the  presence  of  Europeans 
in  their  midst,  and  one  white  man  was  a  greater  deterrent 
to  pillage  than  an  army  of  natives.  There  had  also  been 
some  communications  from  the  Protectorate  Government 
which  were  convincing  the  Ngoni  that  they  were  no  longer 
masters  of  the  situation.  But  above  all,  the  schools  and 
the  preaching  of  the  Gospel  were  creating  a  new  conscience 
among  the  people,  and  it  was  common  knowledge  that  their 
life  of  pillage  and  murder  was  contrary  to  the  law  of 
God. 

Mombera,  and  Mtwaro,  his  brother,  were  both  dead,  and 
with  them  had  disappeared  much  of  the  centralized 
authority,  and  power  of  combination. 

For  ten  or  twelve  years  European  missionaries  had  been 
settled  in  the  tribe,  chiefly  at  Njuyu.  Their  position  there 
had  frequently  been  one  of  extreme  danger,  and  their 
colleagues  at  the  Lake  shore  had  passed  through  periods  of 
great  anxiety  for  them,  when  communication  was  entirely 
cut  off  with  the  hills,  and  the  councillors  were  threatening  to 

41 


42  NATIVE  SCHOOLS 

drive  all  white  men  out  of  the  country.  But  gradually 
opposition  began  to  die  off :  permission  was  given  to  open 
schools  at  various  centres,  and  the  daily  teaching  in  these 
was  breaking  the  war  spirit  of  the  tribe. 

In  1896  there  were  already  twenty-one  schools  estab- 
lished, and  taught  by  natives  of  the  country.  The  first  two 
converts  who  had  been  baptized  in  1890,  after  eight  years  of 
patient  service,  had  increased  to  sixty-one,  and  there  was  a 
considerable  catechumenate.  The  European  station  at 
Njuyu  had  been  shifted  to  Ekwendeni,  and  another  had 
been  opened  at  Hora  and  occupied  for  three  years,  although 
now  no  missionary  was  resident  there.  The  chiefs  no 
longer  objected  to  the  missionaries  travelling  and  preaching 
among  the  villages,  and  they  had  come  to  recognize  them  as 
the  representatives  of  the  European  power  which  was 
extending  all  around  them.  Consequently  the  tribe  was 
now  ready  for  considerable  extension  movements.  When 
Dr.  Elmslie  left  on  furlough  in  the  spring  of  1897,  he  had 
seen  the  people  passing  from  the  stage  of  suspicion  and 
distrust,  and  the  little  church  emerging  into  a  conscious 
and  active  life.  But  so  far  only  a  few  of  the  centres  of 
population  had  been  occupied,  and  some  of  the  most  impor- 
tant leaders  of  the  nation  had  deliberately  closed  themselves 
against  mission  influence,  and  we  felt  it  impossible  to 
rest  content  within  a  limited  sphere  if  villages  beyond 
could  be  induced  to  receive  our  message. 

The  house  at  Ekwendeni  had  one  great  advantage  for  a 
missionary :  it  looked  out  on  a  distant  horizon.  Day  by  day 
one  saw  the  sun  go  down  behind  the  western  hills,  and  when 
the  evening  glow  came  over  the  sky,  one  seemed  to  feel  the 
world  beyond  calling.  There  were  villages  on  the  other  side 
of  that  barrier ;  what  of  the  people  ?  There  were  plains  and 
rivers.  What  of  the  land  ?  And  the  mystery  of  the  horizon 
kept  beckoning  us  to  cross  and  explore  beyond.  When 
once  one  has  been  gripped  by  the  voices  of  the  horizon,  it  is 


MYSTERY  OF  THE  HORIZON        43 

impossible  to  sit  still,  contented  to  cultivate,  and  recultivate, 
with  every  new  fertilizer,  the  little  garden  patch  where  one's 
house  is  built. 

So  when  Mr.  Stuart  arranged  that  we  should  pay  a  visit 
to  Mperembe,  his  plans  fell  in  entirely  with  my  likings. 
This  chief  was  a  brother  of  Mombera  (as  I  have  already 
explained).  He  still  clung  to  the  war  traditions  of  the 
tribe,  and  was  not  considered  to  be  very  friendly  towards 
the  mission.  To  ensure  a  favourable  reception  we  called 
in  the  help  of  his  younger  brother  Maurau,  a  powerful 
chief  in  whose  head  village  we  had  a  flourishing  school, 
and  we  were  soon  assured  that  we  would  be  welcomed. 
So  we  proceeded  to  prepare  for  an  extended  tour  to 
visit  him  and  some  of  the  other  important  chiefs  who  had 
not  yet  given  us  permission  to  open  schools  in  their 
villages. 

Touring  in  these  regions  requires  a  little  foresight,  and 
more  arrangements  than  the  packing  of  a  portmanteau. 
We  must  take  a  tent  with  us,  for  living  in  native  huts  is  not 
attractive,  and,  as  we  know  now,  is  dangerous  to  life,  for 
every  hut  soon  becomes  infected  with  a  house  tick,  the 
tampan,  whose  bite  produces  a  high  persistent  fever.  We 
must  take  our  food  with  us,  for  it  is  hard  to  be  satisfied  and 
to  sustain  one's  strength  on  native  diet.  There  is  no 
wisdom  in  "  pigging  it,"  especially  if  a  great  part  of  the 
year  has  to  be  spent  touring ;  indeed,  it  is  thoroughly  de- 
moralizing to  "  pig  it."  So  we  have  our  camp  table  and 
bed,  and  bath,  our  pots  and  pans,  all  of  which  add  to  our 
baggage,  but  make  bush  life  less  exhausting  to  the 
European. 

In  these  lands  all  goods  had  to  be  carried  by  men,  for 
there  were  no  draught-oxen  and  no  riding  beasts.  So  we 
had  to  take  with  us  a  goodly  company  of  at  least  a  score  of 
able-bodied  men.  If  we  encumbered  them  somewhat  with 
our  necessaries  of  civilization,  they  required  little  for  them- 


44  ETIQUETTE 

selves,  carrying  nothing  but  a  dub  and  spear,  and  clad  in 
nothing  but  a  couple  of  yards  of  calico,  and  possibly  not 
even  wearing  that  if  they  found  that  two  yards  folded  made 
a  nice  pad  for  their  load.  For  sleeping  accommodation  they 
would  depend  on  the  village  huts,  for  food  on  the  hospitality 
of  the  people  we  visited,  for  a  bath  on  the  river  when  there 
was  one,  and  for  warm  bedclothes  on  the  tight-packing  of 
the  naked  sleepers,  and  the  fire  ablaze  at  their  feet. 

When  all  was  ready  we  started  out  for  Mperembe's  one 
morning  early,  and  making  a  detour,  marched  over  broken 
country,  cut  by  dry  ravines,  and  over  bare  stony  hills, 
until  on  the  forenoon  of  the  second  day  we  arrived  at  our 
destination. 

According  to  native  courtesy  we  sat  down  near  the  gate 
of  the  cattle  kraal,  and  waited  there,  without  entering  the 
village.  No  person  was  about,  and  no  one  appeared  to 
welcome  us.  That  was  a  good  sign,  for  the  longer  the  wait 
the  greater  the  welcome.  Too  hurried  a  greeting  might 
mean  that  the  visitor  must  go  quickly. 

At  length  a  band  of  young  men  came  strolling  round  the 
village.  They  marched  in  single  file  and  were  very  lightly 
dressed,  but  conspicuously  decorated.  The  clothes  of  most 
of  them  consisted  of  two  little  skins  hanging  at  their  loins. 
They  had  also  beads  about  their  necks,  brass  bracelets,  and 
anklets  of  wild  banana  seed  which  rattled  slightly  as  they 
walked ;  others  had  anklets  of  little  bells,  which  tinkled 
musically  with  each  step.  Each  lad  carried  one  or  two 
knob-kerries ;  and  as  the  long  file  passed  us  they  looked  as 
charming  a  picture  of  the  pride  of  life  as  one  could 
desire.  Their  bodies — muscular,  erect,  and  clean — were 
carried  with  a  jaunty  grace  and  laughing  defiance. 

Their  steps  were  so  springy  that  they  seemed  only  to 
touch  the  ground  with  their  toes.  It  was  the  young  men's 
pace,  and  as  they  all  knew  they  were  on  show  before  us, 
they  played  their  part  to  perfection. 


IMPRESSIVE  PROCESSIONS  45 

After  they  had  seated  themselves  on  the  ground  at  some 
distance  off,  there  was  another  long  interval  of  silence. 
Then  we  saw  a  procession  of  men  winding  towards  us 
through  the  village  huts.  They  passed  us  with  a  great 
solemnity,  taking  no  notice  of  us.  Nearly  all  wore  the 
Zulu  head-ring,  and  had  attained  to  full  manhood.  Some 
were  ancient  and  tottering.  But  each  carried  a  large 
shield  and  a  club  and  assegai.  Some  had  their  head-ring 
ornamented  with  a  bunch  of  feathers,  or  with  the  crest  of  the 
golden-crested  crane,  and  there  was  a  little  more  calico 
among  them  than  among  the  young  men,  and  an  air  of 
staid  responsibility  instead  of  careless  buoyancy.  They 
also  passed  on,  and  seated  themselves  silently  about  the 
gate  of  the  cattle  kraal. 

Then  a  little  procession  of  the  councillors  came  along — 
grave  men,  each  with  head-ring,  and  carrying  spear  and 
shield.  Taking  no  notice  of  us,  they  seated  themselves 
beside  the  men.  Now  it  was  becoming  embarrassing.  We 
two  Europeans  were  sitting  on  our  loads,  with  our  carriers 
squatting  near  us.  Opposite  us  the  men  had  been  gathering 
in  silence,  and  we  could  see  the  women  in  groups  on  the 
ground  about  the  huts.  But  no  one  had  a  word  for  us,  and 
salutations  must  come  from  the  hosts  first,  the  stranger 
only  answering  him. 

At  length  we  heard  a  shouting  in  the  village  of  "  Etc, 
Baba,"  Mperembe's  salutation,  and  looking  up  we  saw  the 
chief  coming  along  to  us,  making  jocular  remarks  to  the 
women  as  he  passed  them.  He  was  a  tall,  bloated,  very 
ugly  and  very  aristocratic  looking  African.  He  wore  the 
head-ring,  but  had  no  ornaments,  and  no  dress  but  a  small 
worn  bit  of  blue  calico.  He  carried  nothing  in  his  hand  but 
a  fly-flick  made  of  a  bullock's  tail.  Yet  there  was  an 
indescribable  dignity  about  him  that  proclaimed  him  autocrat 
at  once.  He  passed  by  his  men  with  a  leisurely  stride,  they 
shouting  "  Etc,  Baba,"  and  squatted  on  his  haunches  before 


46  A   'LITTLE  FOWL' 

us.  For  some  time  he  stared  at  us,  as  he  might  at  an 
animal  in  his  kraal,  and  then  he  said  in  a  raucous  growl, 
"  Ngikubona  "  (I  see  you).  "  Yebo  "  (yes),  we  replied. 
For  a  moment  longer  he  sat,  and  then  slowly  rising  to  his 
feet,  while  his  people  shouted  "  Ete,  Baba,"  he  returned  to 
the  village. 

The  salutation  was  over,  and  apparently  the  chief  was 
friendly,  for  now  the  men  and  lads  began  to  come  to  us  and 
say  solemnly,  "  We  see  you,"  though  the  humour  of  the 
greeting  was  over  evident  to  us  Europeans  at  whom  they 
had  been  staring  in  silence  for  half  an  hour. 

Now  that  these  preliminaries  were  over  we  felt  free  to 
enter  the  village,  and  sent  a  message  to  the  chief  asking  for 
a  site  on  which  to  pitch  our  tent.  His  head  induna  came 
to  show  us  a  suitable  place  just  outside  the  village,  and 
then  returned  again  while  we  were  getting  our  tents  erected, 
to  say  that  Mperembe  wished  to  give  us  "  a  little  fowl," 
that  we  might  eat  and  not  be  hungry  in  his  village.  We 
followed  the  induna  to  the  cattle  kraal,  and  there  he  in- 
dicated a  goodly  bullock  as  his  "  little  fowl."  We  all 
thereupon  shouted  the  formal  thanks,  and  directed  one  of 
the  carriers  to  kill  the  beast.  This  was  soon  done,  for  he 
walked  up  to  the  bullock  and  struck  it  to  its  heart  with  his 
spear.  Immediately  all  the  people  within  the  kraal  and 
outside  sat  down,  lest,  as  they  say,  while  the  bullock  stood 
stupefied  before  it  dropped,  any  of  its  blood  should  be 
spilt. 

The  men  were  soon  engaged  in  flaying  and  dividing  the 
carcase,  and  we  could  hear  Mperembe  from  his  place  in  the 
village  shouting  to  them  that  he  wanted  the  skin  and  the 
tail,  and  certain  tit-bits  of  the  beast  he  had  joresented  to  us. 
These  were  given  him,  together  with  a  fore-leg  and  shoulder, 
which  by  courtesy  should  be  returned  to  your  host. 

In  the  afternoon  we  paid  our  return  call  to  the  chief,  and 
brought  with  us  a  present  of  some  cloths  and  beads,  a 


A  FULSOME  BARD  47 

knife  and  other  trinkets.  We  found  him  seated  on  a  hard 
cow's  skin  which  was  laid  on  the  ground,  with  a  calabash 
of  beer  before  him.  Some  wives  and  head-men  were  about 
him,  getting  a  share  of  his  beer.  By  this  time  he  was 
drunk,  the  daily  regal  condition  in  this  land.  When  you 
have  serious  business  to  do  with  a  chief,  rise  early  and 
get  it  done  in  the  morning,  for  b}^  midday  he  will  be 
fuddled. 

We  handed  over  our  present,  which  was  much  criticized 
and  disparaged  before  our  faces,  and  immediately  dis- 
tributed. But  first  the  knife  was  returned  to  us.  "  For," 
said  Mperembe,  "  there  is  no  war  between  us,  onlj^  peace." 
As  he  handed  out  his  gifts  to  the  men  and  women  around 
him,  one  warrior,  who  was  at  once  his  executioner  and  bard, 
began  to  shout  his  praises  in  fulsome  language,  telling  of 
supernatural  deeds  done  in  war  and  travel  by  the  great 
Mperembe.  But  we  were  still  sitting  there,  after  having 
stated  our  desire  to  open  a  school  among  his  people,  when 
the  bard's  chatter  was  interrupted  and  he  was  sent  forth  to 
do  his  gruesome  work  as  an  executioner.  A  wife  of  the 
chief  had  that  day  been  found  guilty  of  adultery,  and  while 
we  sat  urging  the  cause  of  the  schools,  she  and  the  guilty 
man  were  clubbed  to  death  outside  the  village. 

Next  morning,  after  some  considerable  debate,  we  had 
the  satisfaction  of  hearing  that  Mperembe  would  be  willing 
to  let  us  open  a  school  on  the  following  year,  but  he  urged 
that  a  European  should  come  to  live  among  his  people, 
and  not  simply  native  teachers.  When  we  went  to  thank 
him  for  his  permission,  Mr.  Stuart  used  his  opportunity  to 
plead  for  the  life  of  another  wife  of  the  chief  who  had  been 
found  guilty  of  adultery,  and  succeeded  in  getting  the  death 
sentence  changed  to  a  fine. 

From  Mperembe's  we  started  out  to  visit  the  new  para- 
mount chief  Mbalekelwa.  He  had  but  recently  been 
formally  instated  in  his  chieftainship,  though  five  years 


48         THE  LAW  OF  INHERITANCE 

had  elapsed  since  the  death  of  Mombera.  Here  we  had  a 
repetition  of  the  dispute  that  is  apt  to  arise  all  over  Africa 
on  the  death  of  a  chief,  leading  possibly  to  the  disruption 
of  a  great  tribal  unity.  African  chiefs  are  eminently 
polygamists,  and  their  wives  may  be  numbered  by  many 
scores.  The  chief  wife  is  usually  well  defined.  She  is  not 
the  first  wife  taken,  for  the  first  wife  is  possibly  a  slave, 
but  she  is  the  first  wife  for  whom  large  dowry  has  been 
paid,  a  free  woman  of  good  family.  In  almost  all  Central 
African  tribes  the  law  of  succession  is  through  the  nephew, 
that  is,  the  son  of  a  sister.  The  Ngoni,  however,  retained  their 
southern  customs,  and  the  heir  was  usually  a  son  of  the 
chief.  But  dissension  is  apt  to  arise  as  to  which  son 
is  the  rightful  heir.  A  claim  might  be  made  for  the  eldest 
son  born,  especially  if  he  had  the  advantage  of  years  and 
by  his  activity  had  already  assumed  a  place  of  importance 
in  the  tribe  before  his  father  died.  When  the  chief  wife 
had  no  sons,  she  might  adopt  the  son  of  another  wife  as 
her  own,  or  the  chief  might  indicate  which  son  he  wished 
to  be  acknowledged  as  his  heir.  Owing  to  this  lack  of  clear 
definition,  several  claimants  might  arise,  and  the  successor 
that  was  nominated  by  the  chief  might  not  be  acknowledged 
by  the  indunas. 

Now  this  is  what  happened  at  the  death  of  Mombera. 
His  head  wife  had  no  son,  and  he  had  named  as  his  suc- 
cessor a  youth  Mkuzo,  whose  mother  was  a  slave  woman, 
and  to  him  the  insignia  of  heirship  had  been  given.  But  on 
Mombera's  death  the  people  of  his  head  village  refused  to 
accept  Mkuzo  as  heir,  because,  said  they,  "  We  do  not  know 
his  mother."  So,  at  the  funeral,  the  chief's  spear  was  handed 
to  Mperembe  instead  of  to  Mkuzo,  and  with  him  lay  the 
powxr  of  nominating  a  successor.  Years  passed  and  no 
successor  was  appointed,  Mperembe  declaring  he  was 
unable  to  select  the  true  heir. 

At  last,  after  some  pressure  from  us,  as  the  ciA'il  affairs 


DISORDER  49 

of  the  tribe  were  getting  into  much  disorder,  the  indunas 
called  a  great  meeting  of  the  tribe,  and  Mperembe  was  told 
to  name  the  heir.  He  publicly  professed  his  inability,  and 
asked  the  advice  of  the  head  indunas.  They  decided  on 
Mbalekelwa,  the  eldest  surviving  son  of  a  head  wife  of 
Mombera.  But,  unfortunately,  this  wife  had  been  driven 
away  by  Mombera  for  adultery,  and  the  parentage  of  her 
son  is  by  no  means  sure.  The  spear,  however,  was  handed 
to  Mbelekelwa,  and  he  was  acclaimed  chief  by  the 
men. 

But  his  appointment  has  never  been  fully  recognized. 
No  indunas  have  been  given  him,  and  many  of  the  people 
hold  that  Mkuzo,  who  had  been  nominated  by  Mombera, 
ought  to  be  chief.  Although  his  position  was  yet  without 
much  authority,  we  felt  that  it  was  a  matter  of  strategic 
importance  that  a  school  should  be  opened  at  his  village, 
especially  as  some  of  the  old  warriors  were  bringing  pressure 
to  bear  on  him  to  confirm  his  position  by  calling  out  a  great 
raid. 

So  we  left  Mperembe  behind  and  marched  for  two  days 
towards  the  paramount  chief's  head-quarters.  On  arriving 
there  we  found  little  of  the  dignity  and  ceremony  estab- 
lished which  should  have  surrounded  one  in  his  position. 
There  were  few  old  men  about  him,  and  almost  none  of  the 
great  Ngoni  leaders,  and  he  was  still  very  shy  and  self- 
conscious.  The  royal  salutation  "  Bayete  "  was  shouted 
when  he  moved,  or  spoke,  but  the  miserable  appearance 
of  the  Tumbuka  slaves  who  followed  him,  sponging  on  his 
vanity,  made  their  attempt  at  ceremonial  state  rather 
farcical. 

We  found  the  young  chief,  Mbalekelwa,  as  he  was  then 
called,  a  rather  attractive  lad  in  those  days,  and  we  stayed 
in  his  village  for  a  little  time,  and  initiated  him  into  the 
mysteries  of  the  alphabet.  He  gladly  gave  his  consent  to 
the  opening  of  a  school,  and  he  himself  was  an  eager  pupil 

D 


50  IMPORTUNATE  WIDOWS 

for  a  short  time.  But  already  he  had  become  addicted  to 
hemp-smoking  and  the  regal  habit  of  drunkenness,  and 
I  fear  his  good  intentions  for  himself  never  got  very  far. 
Selfishness,  which  is  a  deplorable  vice  in  a  chief,  and  sensual 
indulgence  have  not  helped  him,  and  to-day  his  power  is 
feebler  than  ever. 

While  we  rested  at  his  village  we  were  pestered  by  the 
widows  of  Mombera,  who  gathered  about  us  like  flies,  and 
more  aggressive  than  all  the  others  was  the  head  wife,  who 
had  adopted  Mkuzo  as  her  son.  She  presented  a  miser- 
able appearance,  her  face,  from  continual  drunken  bouts, 
recalling  the  battered  and  bloated  visages  one  sometimes 
sees  on  wretched  women  in  the  city  slums.  She  had  lost 
an  eye  in  a  drunken  fight  with  some  man,  and  had  the  scar 
of  a  great  wound  on  her  cheek.  Her  face  was  most  evil- 
looking  from  continuous  drunken  bouts. 

With  such  a  custodian  of  the  late  chief's  good  name 
one  could  not  expect  much  character  in  the  heir.  But 
she  made  the  most  of  her  position,  and  along  with  the 
other  widows  hung  about  us  for  hours  at  a  time,  begging. 
When  we  remonstrated  that  we  were  the  strangers,  and 
hospitality  should  be  given  to  us,  they  replied  that  they 
honoured  us  by  begging,  for  thus  they  acknowledged  that 
we  were  greater  and  richer  than  they.  They  begged  our 
salt,  our  soap,  our  blankets,  our  clothes,  and  even  our  tent 
itself.  Hour  after  hour  we  bore  with  them.  They  were 
the  last  to  leave  us  at  night,  and  the  first  to  arrive  in  the 
morning.  And  when  they  found  us  adamantine,  they  went 
away  with  no  pleasant  remarks  about  us. 

It  was  with  some  relief  that  we  left  this  nest  of  impor- 
tunate beggars,  and  travelled  towards  Ng'onomo's  villages. 
But  we  approached  this  goal  with  less  hopefulness  than  we 
had  done  the  others,  for  Ng'onomo  had  declared  himself  to 
be  inimical  to  our  schools.  He  was  the  son  of  a  Tonga 
from  the  neighbourhood  of  Delagoa  Bay. 


AN  ENERGETIC  CHIEF  51 

A  curious  story  used  to  be  told  about  the  capture  of  his 
father.  When  the  Ngoni  impi  rushed  his  village,  they 
found  all  the  men  sitting  on  their  haunches,  absorbed  in 
that  draught-board  game  which  is  to  be  seen  played 
from  the  Pyramids  to  the  Cape.  In  these  lands  it  is 
played  with  pebbles  and  little  cups  scooped  in  the 
sand,  and  two  or  three  dozen  men  may  be  engaged  at 
once.  For  hours  on  end  the  Tonga  villagers  had  been 
glued  to  their  game,  until  they  were  startled  by  the 
hideous  yell  of  the  impi  dashing  through  their  village, 
slaying.  They  attempted  to  rise  and  flee,  but  their  in- 
tense devotion  to  the  game  in  a  constrained  posture  had 
cramped  their  legs,  and  not  a  man  of  them  could  stand 
or  get  away.  And  so  they  were  surrounded  helpless 
among  their  pebbles,  and  every  man  incorporated  in  the 
tribe. 

The  boy  Ng'onomo  had  been  brought  up  along  with 
Mombera,  and  the  two  became  deep  and  lifelong  friends. 
When  Ng'onomo  grew  up,  and  went  out  to  war  he  proved 
himself  a  warrior  braver  and  more  successful  than  most, 
and  for  this  he  was  rewarded  by  Mombera  with  wives,  slaves, 
and  cattle.  Thus  he  gradually  accumulated  a  following, 
and  soon  was  able  to  muster  his  own  band  of  warriors.  His 
energies  were  boundless,  and  his  villages  began  to  increase 
with  the  number  of  the  captives  of  his  spear,  as  well  as  with 
those  who  were  drawn  to  him  by  the  fame  of  his  successes. 
Of  course,  his  growing  power  excited  the  jealousy  of  the 
chiefs  and  indunas,  for,  after  all,  Ng'onomo  was  only  a 
slave. 

One  year  a  great  conspiracy  was  formed  to  kill  him,  and 
distribute  his  wealth.  The  conspirators  got  the  ear  of 
Mombera,  and  poured  in  tales  of  treachery  and  disloyalty, 
until  Mombera  agreed  that  Ng'onomo  must  die.  Thereupon 
a  great  collection  of  regiments  was  summoned,  and  camped 
about  the  royal  kraal,  and  a  friendly  message  was  sent  from 


52  THE  SWORD  OF  DAMOCLES 

the  chief  to  Ng'onomo,  asking  him  to  pay  him  a  visit  as  his 
heart  was  hungry  to  see  him.  When  the  message  came, 
Ng'onomo  at  once  rose  to  go  to  see  his  old  friend.  But, 
meanwhile,  news  of  the  consj^iracy  had  got  about,  and  all 
the  friends  of  the  great  fighter  began  to  flock  about  him, 
forbidding  him  to  accept  the  treacherous  invitation.  He 
would  not  listen  to  them.  Then  they  declared  they  would 
go  and  defend  his  life.  But  he  laughed  at  their  fears,  and 
bade  them  stay  at  home. 

So  he  went  forth  alone,  and  as  he  passed  near  the  royal 
village  he  could  see  the  army  of  his  enemies  camped  in  the 
valley  below.  The  cattle  kraal,  too,  was  crowded  with  all 
the  great  leaders  of  the  tribe,  and  fighting  men  in  the  full 
panoply  of  war.  But  he  passed  within  the  fence  undaunted, 
and  marched  up  to  Mombera,  and  began  to  dance  one  of  his 
wild  war-dances.  Mombera  eyed  his  coming  over  his  beer 
pot,  and  when  he  saw  the  dance  begin,  burst  out  laughing, 
and  taking  Ng'onomo  by  the  hand,  made  him  sit  down 
beside  him,  and  talk,  and  immediately  his  heart  was  knit 
to  him  as  of  old. 

But,  although  Ng'onomo  escaped  that  time,  his  position 
in  the  tribe  was  never  a  safe  one.  Yet  he  grew  in  power 
and  wealth,  and  when  the  rinderpest  swept  through  the 
country  emptying  the  kraals,  and  leaving  entire  districts 
without  a  cow,  somehow  it  did  not  touch  his  corner,  and 
while  the  grass  grew  in  the  cattle  pens  of  other  chiefs,  his 
remained  full  of  lowing  kine.  In  1895,  he  got  into  serious 
trouble  through  harbouring  a  rebel  chief  from  the  Chewa 
country  who  had  fled  before  a  punitive  expedition  of  the 
British  Government.  And  when  the  whole  tribe  was 
threatened  with  an  armed  force  unless  the  fugitive  was 
given  up,  once  more  the  chiefs  would  gladly  have  done 
him  hurt. 

He  had  now  moved  away  from  his  old  district  at  Hora 
and  was  settled  on  the  lower  reaches  of  the  Mzimba  River, 


AN  OBDURATE  CHIEF  58 

in  a  country  covered  with  trees,  and  with  rich  feeding- 
ground  for  his  cattle.  Several  attempts  had  been  made  to 
induce  him  to  receive  our  teachers,  but  without  avail.  Yet 
we  decided  to  try  again,  especially  as  he  was  always  kindly 
disposed  to  the  white  man.  It  was  important  not  only 
from  the  point  of  view  of  the  large  population  gathered 
about  him,  that  we  should  get  schools  opened,  but  also 
from  the  knowledge  that  if  once  he  yielded,  few  would  feel 
inclined  to  hold  out  any  longer  against  us,  and  the  last 
influential  leader  of  the  war  party  would  have  succumbed 
before  the  new  era  of  peace. 

It  would  not  be  wise,  however,  for  us  to  force  ourselves 
on  him,  or  to  surprise  him  by  an  unexpected  visit,  so  a 
message  was  sent  ahead  to  tell  him  that  we  were  on  the 
path,  and  would  be  glad  to  talk  with  him  in  his  own 
village. 

On  the  night  that  we  marched  into  his  district  we  were 
late.  The  sun  had  gone  down  while  we  were  yet  stumbling 
along  the  tree-strewn  path.  Happily,  the  full  moon  had 
risen  giving  us  good  light,  and  at  last  we  came  to  a  little 
village.  We  called  for  some  one  to  show  us  the  direction 
we  should  take,  but  no  one  answered.  The  cattle-kraal  was 
empty,  and  not  a  man,  Avoman  or  child  was  to  be  found. 
Without  a  guide  it  was  hard  to  pick  out  our  path,  but  we 
could  find  no  one  to  help  us,  and  on  we  stumbled.  Soon 
we  came  to  another  village,  but  found  it  also  deserted. 
The  head  teacher,  who  was  with  us,  thought  he  knew  the 
direction  of  Ng'onomo's  chief  village,  so  we  followed  him 
until  at  last  we  came  on  a  little  collection  of  huts  in  the 
wood.  But  again  there  was  no  living  person  about,  so  we 
decided  to  pitch  our  tents  there,  and  in  the  morning  to  try 
again  to  find  our  destination. 

When  the  sun  rose  next  morning  we  found  that  confidence 
had  returned,  and  a  few  people  were  moving  about  the 
village.     They  told  us  that  Ng'onomo  was  near  at  hand, 


54  DISAPPOINTED  HOPES 

and  a  message  had  been  sent  to  him  to  tell  him  that  we  had 
arrived. 

While  we  were  sitting  in  our  tent  at  breakfast,  the 
teacher  came  to  the  door,  and  said,  "  Ng'onomo  has 
come,"  "  Where  is  he  ?  "  we  asked,  and  he  told  us  to 
look  outside.  And  there,  right  opposite  to  us,  the  old 
man  was  sitting.  Two  or  three  hundred  fully  armed  men 
were  squatting  and  standing  around  him,  and  others  were 
still  arriving.  Yet  we  had  heard  no  sound  of  their 
approach. 

Ng'onomo  now  came  to  the  tent  and  greeted  us.  We 
invited  him  inside,  and  gave  him  a  seat.  At  first,  he  was 
evidently  very  suspicious.  He  did  not  know  who  we  were, 
or  why  we  had  come,  but  gradually  the  purpose  of  our  visit 
broke  on  him,  and  his  reserve  began  to  give  way.  Then 
Mr.  Stuart  asked  him  why  he  had  come  with  such  an  array. 
"  These  are  all  your  own  friends  come  to  greet  you,"  he  at 
once  replied. 

Then  the  usual  presents  were  exchanged,  and  our  carriers 
sat  down  to  feast  on  the  slain  bullock,  while  we  did  our  best 
to  cultivate  a  little  friendship  with  the  old  warrior  and  his 
people.  We  urged  our  desire  to  have  a  school  opened. 
Some  of  the  lads  had  the  temerity  to  plead  their  eagerness 
to  learn.  But  Ng'onomo  would  have  nothing  to  do  with 
schools.  His  great  position  had  been  won  by  the  power  of 
his  spear,  and  he  was  not  going  to  disperse  it  rashly  by  the 
teaching  of  peace  in  schools.  So,  after  some  little  time  had 
been  spent  at  the  village,  we  had  to  leave,  with  nothing 
accomplished. 

Three  or  four  years  after,  during  a  visit  from  Dr.  Elmslie, 
permission  was  at  last  wrung  out  of  him,  but  with  the  saving 
clause  that  none  of  his  wives  should  be  taught.  He  was 
a  great  polygamist,  and  knew  that  Christianity  was  opposed 
to  a  plurality  of  wives,  and  also  to  that  state  of  drunkenness 
in  which  all  good  wives  should  try  to  retain  their  husbands. 


HOPES  FULFILLED  55 

But  the  pressure  of  the  strong  sons  who  were  about  him, 
and  the  lusty  young  men  of  the  villages,  who  saw  them- 
selves being  outstripped  by  the  youth  of  rival  districts, 
proved  too  great  for  him,  and  for  their  sakes  he  had 
yielded. 


CHAPTER  V 

IN  THE  BUSH 

I  HAD  now  been  thoroughly  instructed  in  the  ways  of 
camp  and  caravan,  and  was  ready  to  take  my  share 
in  that  continual  touring  which  was  necessary  for 
the  ever-widening  ramifications  of  our  work.  The  sphere 
allocated  to  our  mission  station  included  all  the  country  of 
Mombera's  Ngoni.  At  that  time  the  people  numbered 
perhaps  one  hundred  and  twenty  thousand,  and  were  spread 
over  a  district  which  measured  about  fifty  miles  by  thirty. 
In  these  later  years,  the}^  have  widely  scattered,  and  occupy 
a  land  three  times  as  great,  and  the  population  has  not 
increased  much  owing  to  the  return  of  large  numbers  of 
slaves  to  their  old  lands.  Mr.  Stuart  and  I  were  the  only 
Europeans  in  the  land,  when  Dr.  Elmslie  was  home  on 
furlough,  and  when  Mr.  Stuart  went  to  the  Institution  to 
help  there,  I  was  for  some  time  quite  alone. 

The  teachers  who  conducted  our  schools  were  at  a  very 
elementary  stage  of  education,  and  required  constant  super- 
vision. And  great  stretches  of  country  were  still  un- 
occupied. Frequent  travelling  was  necessary,  therefore, 
and  in  this  a  great  part  of  the  year  was  spent  by  one  or 
the  other  of  us. 

Our  country  is  high,  lying  over  four  thousand  feet  above 
sea-level,  and  its  atmosphere  is  still  further  tempered  by 
cool  breezes  that  blow  throughout  the  dry  season  from  a 
high  range  of  grassy  hills,  called  the  Vipya.     In  the  cold 

56 


ACCIDENTS   AND   INCIDENTS         57 

season,  from  May  to  July,  the  temperature  is  so  low  that 
one  wears  tweeds,  and  is  glad  of  a  fire  in  the  evening.  Then 
tramping  becomes  a  pleasant  task,  and  when  one  has  no 
fever  hanging  about  one,  longish  marches  of  twenty  to 
thirty  miles  can  be  made  without  strain. 

Sometimes,  in  the  exuberance  of  youth,  I  started  out 
alone,  especially  if  I  was  to  be  absent  only  for  two  or  three 
days.  Then  I  probably  had  a  bicycle  or  a  donkey  to  take 
me  about.  Strapping  to  my  mount  a  blanket  and  a  kettle 
with  a  little  svigar  and  tea,  I  thought  I  was  ready  for  the 
journey.  But  I  always  returned  from  these  lonely  efforts 
somewhat  the  worse  for  them.  I  had  a  great  faculty  for 
losing  my  way,  and  ending  the  day  in  difficulties,  perhaps 
from  punctured  tyres,  or  from  a  lame  donkey,  or  from 
blistered  feet,  and  the  food  I  got  in  the  villages  never  seemed 
very  sustaining.  Yet  it  was  worth  a  little  inconvenience 
to  see  the  beaming  pleasure  with  which  some  old  lady,  whom 
I  might  commission  to  cook  for  me,  fulfilled  her  task.  She 
would  bring  me  a  dish  of  the  whitest  maize  porridge,  and 
add  perhaps  a  cooked  fowl  as  relish.  But  when  she  added, 
as  a  special  dainty,  a  dish  of  fat  stewed  caterpillar,  my 
inner  man  would  revolt. 

One  night  I  arrived  in  a  large  village  where  a  great 
"  umsindo  "  was  being  held,  i.e.  the  dance  which  celebrates 
the  arrival  of  girls  at  puberty.  In  this  case  some  daughters 
of  a  head  man,  and  their  companions  of  an  equal  age,  were 
being  honoured.  The  girls  were  shut  up  in  a  house  by 
themselves,  were  decorated  with  beads,  and  were  being 
instructed  by  the  old  women. 

But  outside  a  great  company  of  youths  and  maidens 
were  dancing.  They  were  all  elaborately  decorated  with 
beads,  and  bright-coloured  cloths,  and  processed  round  and 
round  the  kraal  as  they  danced,  sometimes  halting  before 
the  hut  where  the  girls  were  seated,  while  they  performed 
more  elaborate  movements  of  the  dance.    They  had  already 


58  ADVANTAGES  AND  DISADVANTAGES 

been  dancing  for  two  days  and  a  night,  and  the  festival  was 
not  nearly  concluded. 

Now,  it  was  interesting  to  me  to  see  this  native  custom, 
but,  unfortunately,  I  had  to  pay  rather  dearly  for  the  sight, 
for  there  was  no  food  in  the  village  but  heady  native  beer, 
and  I  would  not  touch  that.  The  good  housewives  had 
pounded  no  meal,  and  its  preparation  is  not  a  matter  of 
hours  but  of  days.  So  however  willing  they  might  be  to 
help  me,  they  could  not.  But  I  had  a  good  kettle  of  tea 
made,  and  a  very  tough  fowl  stewed,  and  managed  to  pull 
along  fairly  comfortably.  All  night  through  they  thundered 
on  with  their  dance,  and  the  hut  which  was  given  me  was 
constantly  invaded  by  tired  dancers,  coming  in  to  rest, 
and  to  see  the  white  man.  Next  day  I  left  them  still 
absorbed  in  their  exhausting  sport,  and  cycled  for  home. 
I  soon  lost  the  path  entirely,  and  found  my  way  blocked 
by  a  high  range  of  hills  up  Avhich  I  had  to  carry  my 
bicycle.  When  I  got  to  the  summit  I  could  see  Ekwendeni 
in  the  distance,  and  mounted  for  a  somewhat  hazardous 
run  down.  But  I  had  not  gone  far  before  the  tyres  were 
punctured  in  many  places,  beyond  my  power  of  repair.  To 
push  that  machine  for  twelve  miles  or  so,  over  a  pathless 
country  and  with  an  empty  stomach,  was  almost  more  than 
I  could  manage.  And  when  I  got  home,  I  thought  it  would 
be  a  long  time  before  I  made  so  foolhardy  a  journey  again. 

The  donkey,  like  the  bicycle,  too,  could  be  troublesome, 
but  on  the  whole  it  was  more  reliable.  Sometimes  it  got 
into  a  bog  which  threatened  to  swallow  it,  at  other  times  it 
would  refuse  to  cross  some  river.  And  in  these  situations 
one  was  very  unhappy  until  natives  arrived  and  rendered 
help. 

But  one  advantage  of  these  lonely  journeys  was  the 
kindly  relations  that  they  established  between  the  people 
and  myself.  In  the  evening  they  flocked  into  my  hut, 
their  tongues  were  loosened,  and  they  asked  questions,  and 


CARRIERS  59 

told  stories  far  into  the  night.  And  the  great  disadvantage 
of  coming  into  such  close  quarters  with  the  natives  in  their 
huts  was  that  one  almost  certainly  got  badly  bitten  by  the 
tampan,  and  perhaps  had  violent  fever  a  few  days  after. 
I  had  better  say  now,  the  disadvantage  far  outweighed  the 
advantage,  for  as  a  dead  missionary  is  not  nearly  so  useful 
as  a  living  one,  my  example  had  better  not  be  followed 
too  frequently. 

The  usual  system  of  travelling  was  with  carriers  who 
were  loaded  with  the  tent  and  camp  furniture,  and  also  with 
a  machila,  or  canvas  hammock,  slung  on  a  bamboo  pole,  the 
lazy  invention  of  the  Portuguese,  in  which  one  was  carried 
when  tired.  With  these  strapping  young  men  one  journeyed 
for  weeks  on  end,  listening  to  their  conversation  and  songs, 
seeing  them  pouring  with  perspiration  under  their  load  and 
in  a  hot  sun,  and  yet  very,  very  seldom  being  disturbed  with 
a  quarrel  among  them.  The  good  nature  and  the  endurance 
of  carriers  are  a  constant  cause  for  admiration. 

Perhaps  the  lack  of  monotony  in  our  journeys  saved  a 
vast  deal  of  weariness  and  irritation.  There  is  no  more 
tiresome  course  than  that  of  a  wide  unbending  road  which 
stretches  straight  ahead.  And  that  is  frequently  the  type 
of  the  new  Government  roads  that  are  opening  up  the 
country.  They  are  excellent  for  motor-bicycles,  but  detest- 
able to  the  pedestrian.  Happily,  we  seldom  need  to  use 
them.  The  native  path,  on  which  I  tramp  hundreds  of 
miles  every  year,  winds  and  changes  its  prospect  all  day 
long.  You  pass  round  every  fallen  tree,  turn  away  to  the 
side  to  find  the  easiest  crossing  of  each  gully,  twist  about 
the  edges  of  the  gardens,  puzzle  over  cross  and  diverging 
paths,  and  have  never  two  minutes'  monotony.  Of  course, 
it  is  not  the  shortest  distance  between  two  points.  But 
there  is  something  better  in  life  than  "  getting  there  quickly," 
and  we  at  least  "  travel  hopefully." 

What  endless  variety  there  is  in  the  day's  march  !    If  one 


60  WILD  LIFE 

is  a  botanist,  or  a  zoologist,  which  I  am  not,  one  would 
never  "  get  there."  The  path  speaks  too  often,  and  too  in- 
terestingly. Yet,  even  to  the  superficial  traveller  it  is  always 
arresting.  You  see  the  stones  placed  in  the  fork  of  some 
tree,  or  a  bunch  of  grass  tied  into  a  knot,  that  tell  you  how 
some  belated  native  passed  this  way,  and  placed  there  his 
talisman  that  the  sun  might  not  go  down  before  he  had 
arrived  at  his  destination,  and  that  the  women  might  have 
porridge  waiting  him.  At  the  cross-roads  you  see  the 
cleanings  of  the  pigeon-houses  spread  out,  that  the  dove- 
cots may  be  fertile,  or  the  shells  of  the  ground  nuts,  that  the 
gardens  may  be  productive.  Near  the  paths  that  diverge 
to  some  village  you  will  see  a  heajo  of  ashes,  and  broken 
pots,  and  sweepings  that  tell  you  how  some  wise  witch-doctor 
has  been  purifying  the  village  to  drive  away  a  persistent 
disease.  Or  your  carriers  will  throw  a  branch  or  some  stones 
on  a  heap  that  is  daily  increasing  beside  a  village,  to  shame 
some  barren  household,  lest  their  feet  swell.  You  may  pass 
a  worn  grinding-stone  lying  solitary  in  the  tenantless  wood, 
and  it  tells  of  inhabitants  that  were  here  a  generation  or  two 
ago,  and  then  will  follow  a  wild  discussion  as  to  who  these 
were,  and  what  drove  them  forth,  and  so  a  page  of  history 
will  be  opened. 

And  then  there  is  the  constant  interest  and  alarm  of  wild 
life.  The  honey-bird  calls,  and  flutters  from  tree  to  tree, 
and  your  men  seize  their  spears  and  whistle  back  to  it,  and 
off  it  flies  leading  them  to  some  hollow  tree  where  honey  is 
hid.  They  take  their  spears,  for  they  say  that  if  the  last 
traveller  carried  off  all  the  honey  and  left  none  for  the 
feathered  guide,  it  will  take  its  revenge  on  the  next  by 
leading  him  to  a  lion  or  leopard,  and  not  to  honey.  And 
then  they  all  have  their  stories  of  misadventures  with  lions 
to  which  they  had  been  treacherously  led,  and  they  pour 
them  out  with  energetic  volume. 

Snakes  one  is  constantly  seeing,  and  it  is  wonderful  how 


Pounding  Maize 

Two  girls  are  pounding  with  wooden  pestles.  A  third, 
kneeling,  is  sifting  the  meal  in  a  shallow  basket.  Maize 
is  broken  first,  and  then  soaked  for  seme  days  before  being 
made  into  meal. 


A  Native  Bridge 

It  is  built  at  a  narrowing  of  the  stream  by  laying  sticks  across  con- 
venient trees.  No  nails  are  used.  All  the  binding  is  done  with  strips 
of  bark. 


GAME  61 

little  harm  they  do  considering  how  numerous  and  deadly 
they  are.  I  do  not  think  that  there  are  any  that  wilfully 
attack  you  first,  unless  you  stand  between  them  and  their 
hole.  Almost  every  case  of  snake-bite  I  have  known  has 
been  got  through  treading  on  them  in  the  dark.  One  day 
I  was  walking  smartly  through  a  wood  accompanied  by  a 
host  of  children,  who  ran  and  leaped  by  my  side.  Suddenly 
they  gave  a  cry  and  scattered.  I  looked  up  to  see  what 
was  wrong,  and  before  I  could  ask,  a  large  snake  about  six 
feet  long  came  slithering  past.  It  got  entangled  with  my 
feet  as  I  stepped  out,  and  twice  or  thrice  I  stumbled  over  it, 
before  it  got  clear.  But  it  seemed  more  eager  to  get  off 
than  to  do  me  hurt.  There  is  one  snake,  however,  which 
is  dangerous  above  all,  for  it  is  vicious  and  is  said  to  attack 
unprovoked,  and  its  bite  is  most  deadly.  It  is  called  the 
"  nkomi,"  and  the  male  is  said  to  crow  like  a  cock,  and  to 
have  a  comb  on  its  head.  I  have  frequently  met  it,  but 
none  I  saw  had  a  comb.  It  is,  perhaps,  five  or  six  feet  long, 
of  a  light  coffee  colour,  and  not  much  thicker  than  a  stout 
walking-stick.  Once  or  twice  when  I  have  come  across  it 
in  the  wood,  it  has  raised  itself  up  about  two  feet,  bent  its 
vicious-looking  head  at  us  as  if  ready  to  strike,  while  the 
men  have  stood  terrified.  Then  it  has  gone  away  a  little 
distance,  and  again  arched  itself  and  fixed  us  with  its  horrid 
brown  eyes,  and  so  has  disappeared  into  its  hole.  It  is  the 
only  snake  I  have  seen  from  which  the  men  are  so  eager 
to  get  away,  that  they  do  not  venture  to  throw  their  clubs 
at  it. 

When  one  marches  with  a  number  of  carriers  one  does  not 
see  many  wild  beasts,  for  the  noise  of  their  talk  warns  all 
off  the  path.  I  have  travelled  for  hundreds  of  miles  along 
the  Government  roads  with  a  European  visitor,  who  was 
eager  to  see  gome  of  the  wild  life  of  Africa.  But  he  was 
never  away  from  his  machila  boys,  and  consequently  did 
not  get  a  glimpse  of  even  the  smallest  antelope.     But  when 


62   ENCOUNTER  WITH  A  LEOPARD 

one  goes  ahead,  especially  in  the  early  morning,  spinning 
quietly  on  a  bicycle,  or  tramping  by  oneself,  one  is  sure  to 
have  adventures.  I  have  cycled  past  leopards,  hyenas, 
foxes,  hunting-dogs,  and  numerous  antelope,  but  always 
found  them  more  ready  to  leap  off  before  the  wonder  of 
civilized  locomotion,  than  to  investigate,  or  attack. 

One  day  I  was  walking  along  a  path  w-hich  led  through 
high  grass  standing  eight  or  nine  feet  on  either  side,  when 
suddenly  I  found  myself  face  to  face  with  a  leopard.  It  was 
coming  towards  me,  and  when  I  unexpectedly  appeared 
three  or  four  yards  off,  it  crouched  ready  to  spring.  I  stood 
stock  still,  unable  either  to  move  forward,  or  to  turn  and 
run.  And  so  we  remained  looking  at  one  another,  for  a  time 
that  seemed  to  me  much  too  long.  At  length  it  turned 
slowly  round,  and  went  off  the  way  it  came.  I  am  afraid 
I  cannot  say  that  the  power  of  my  eye  conquered  it,  at 
least,  if  my  eye  reflected  my  state  of  mind  at  the  moment. 

There  is  no  more  dangerous  animal  in  Africa  than  the 
leopard.  If  it  is  wounded,  it  attacks  with  lightning 
suddenness,  and  every  year  numbers  of  natives  and  some 
Europeans  get  dreadfully  mauled  or  killed  by  its  deadly 
claws  and  teeth. 

In  the  cool  weather  it  is  well  not  to  set  off  early,  for  the 
natives  feel  the  morning  cold  severely.  Nor  can  the  start 
be  made  till  the  sun  is  well  up  during  the  rains,  for  then 
the  long  grass  is  hanging  with  heavy  dew,  and  before  the 
traveller  has  gone  many  hundred  yards  he  will  be  soaked 
through.  If  you  must  go  early  on  these  wet  mornings,  it  is 
always  wisest  to  march  at  the  back  of  your  caravan,  for 
they  knock  off  the  dew  by  their  passage  in  front  of  you. 
But  though  they  have  few  garments  to  get  soaked,  they 
hate  the  cold  wet,  and  you  will  probably  find  before  you 
have  gone  a  mile  that  you  are  in  front  of  the  caravan  in 
spite  of  yourself,  for  all  the  way  along  one  after  another 
has  been  stepping  aside  on  the  pretence  of  tying  his  load  a 


THE  DAWN  63 

little  more  carefully,  or  of  taking  a  snuff,  but  really  with  the 
deep  intention  of  falling  into  the  rear  and  so  walking  more 
drily. 

In  the  hot  season,  if  you  are  wise,  you  will  do  most  of 
your  travelling  in  the  night  or  very  early  morning.  Even 
without  a  moon  you  can  find  your  way  along  the  path. 
And  then  you  have  the  finest  moments  of  the  day,  and  of 
the  year,  when  the  dawn  begins  to  break.  You  will  hear 
the  first  cock-crow  in  the  villages  that  lie  around,  but  are 
invisible  in  the  dark,  and  you  will  know  it  will  not  be  long 
before  the  land  you  travel  through  becomes  defined.  Then 
comes  the  second  cock-crow,  and  you  are  conscious  of  an 
almost  imperceptible  brightening.  The  trees  are  full  of  the 
singing  of  birds,  a  grey  light  is  slowly  revealing  the  outlines 
of  the  hills,  then  bright-red  splashes  outline  the  faint  clouds, 
and  the  whole  world  bursts  into  life.  How  the  men  shout 
and  sing  in  the  joy  of  the  morning.  For  hours  they  have 
been  marching  silently,  doggedly,  but  now  their  bodies  are 
quivering  with  energy.  You  pass  near  the  kraal  gate  of  a 
village  where  some  men  are  sitting  over  a  very  little  fire 
with  sleepy,  unwashed  faces,  and  with  their  backs  bared  to 
the  first  rays  of  the  sun.  But  the  women  are  already 
vigorously  pounding  their  maize,  and  boys  are  lifting  the 
logs  which  close  the  kraal  gate,  that  they  may  milk  the 
cows  into  the  wooden  pails,  before  driving  them  out  to 
pasture.  And,  unless  thoroughly  unwell,  you  will  smile  to 
yourself,  and  declare  this  is  the  best  life  that  any  man  can 
live,  and  the  morning  atmosphere  of  Africa  is  more  spark- 
ling than  champagne. 

But,  of  course,  you  are  not  always  travelling  in  the 
delicious  morning.  You  must  take  the  bitter  with  the 
sweet,  and  there  are  days  when  touring  is  a  disagreeable 
enough  duty.  Especially  is  this  so  in  the  rains.  You  will 
now  try  to  plan  your  work  so  that  all  travel  is  over  before 
midday  and   you   are  safely  in   camp  before  the   tropical 


64  THE  RAINS 

showers  burst,  for  if  you  are  caught  in  these  downpours  no 
waterproof  yet  invented  will  keep  you  dry.  And  it  is  not 
pleasant  to  find  not  only  your  clothes  wringing  wet,  but 
the  bedding  also,  and  all  your  belongings.  Sometimes  you 
must  pass  over  long  stretches  of  country  where  there  is  no 
shelter,  and  then,  alas  !  for  yourself  and  your  men  if  you  are 
closed  round  by  one  of  the  long  showers  that  last  for 
hours  on  end.  The  natives  suffer  more  from  the  rain  than 
from  cold  or  heat.  Every  year  numbers  are  killed  by  it. 
Especially  dangerous  is  it  for  the  little  herd-boys.  Some- 
times they  are  caught  in  a  cold  pelting  shower  far  from  the 
village,  and  before  they  can  get  to  shelter  they  fall  down 
chilled  and  die.  The  broad  savannahs  that  we  call  the 
Vipya  are  a  death-trap  when  the  heavy  rains  come.  One 
may  be  crossing  them  when  the  thick  mists  close  down, 
driving  in  dense  chilly  masses.  And  the  nearest  tree- 
shelter  may  be  an  hour  or  two's  journey  ahead.  I  have 
once  or  twice  entered  these  deadly  vapours,  and  with  the 
greatest  difficulty,  by  dint  of  driving  and  encouraging  and 
threatening,  managed  to  get  all  my  carriers  through  alive. 

One  year  a  Government  official  arrived  at  Ekwendeni 
after  having  passed  through  a  severe  trial  on  the  Vipya. 
He  did  not  know  the  dangers  of  those  high  lands,  and  allowed 
his  men  to  be  caught  in  a  cold  wetting  rain,  with  the  result 
that  one  carrier  died,  and  another  was  brought  in  to  the 
dispensary  raving  mad,  his  body  covered  with  great  blisters. 
Sometimes  when  men  cross  the  Vipya  they  find  the  dead 
bodies  of  poor  travellers  who  have  fallen  and  died  in  the 
rain.  The  merciful  traveller  will  be  careful,  then,  to  avoid 
pushing  on  when  rain  threatens,  for  although  his  warm 
clothes  and  strong  mackintosh  may  protect  him  from  chill, 
his  carriers  have  nothing  but  their  skin  and  thin  calico  to 
save  them. 

Lightning  storms  are  sudden  and  more  violent  than  those 
chilling  rains,  but  they  do  not  last  so  long.     Their  danger 


LIGHTNING  65 

is  as  great  in  the  village  as  in  the  field.  Every  year  there 
is  a  tale  of  victims  who  have  been  struek.  A  little  while 
ago,  one  of  our  smartest  boys  was  killed,  along  with  four 
others,  while  they  were  sitting  in  a  hut  talking  over  the  fire. 

The  natives  have  a  curious  and  confirmed  belief  that 
lightning  is  a  bird. 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  it  ?  "  I  asked  the  night  watchman. 

"  No,  but  a  girl  of  our  village  saw  it  not  long  ago,"  he 
said.  "  And  she  surprised  us  by  telling  us  it  was  quite  a 
big  bird.  We  always  thought  it  was  a  small  one.  It  was 
black,  and  had  a  big  curling  tail  like  a  cock's.  She  was 
hoeing  one  day  in  the  garden,  when  the  bird  splashed  in  a 
pool  of  water  near  her,  ran  up  her  hoe  and  scratched  her, 
and  flew  back  into  the  clouds.  The  lightning  is  the  flash 
of  its  going,  and  the  thunder  the  noise  of  its  wings.  And 
those  little  scarlet  insects  you  see  on  the  path  during  the 
rains,  are  the  children  of  the  lightning.  If  you  don't  believe 
me,  I  tell  you  1  saw  the  marks  of  its  claws  on  her  body,  and 
a  man  in  the  village  has  one  of  its  feathers." 

Of  course,  the  coming  of  the  rainy  season  brings  new 
difficulties  in  travelling,  and  one  of  the  most  interesting  of 
these  comes  from  the  sv/ollen  rivers.  Sometimes  you  may 
find  a  convenient  bridge  over  Avhich  you  may  cross  somewhat 
gingerly,  but  with  safety.  When  the  river  is  narrow  the 
bridge  may  consist  of  a  tree  on  either  bank  which  has  been 
cut  and  allowed  to  fall  so  that  the  branches  interlock.  At 
other  times  you  may  find  a  very  clever  suspension  bridge 
made  by  the  knotting  and  twisting  of  lianas,  which  are  tied 
to  great  trees  on  either  side  of  the  river. 

Where  the  river  is  broad  and  very  quiet  we  have  a  most 
primitive  type  of  canoe  to  ferry  us  across.  It  is  not  even  a 
hollowed  tree,  but  simply  the  stripped  bark  of  some  giant 
of  the  forest.  The  sides  and  ends  are  turned  up,  while  the 
bark  is  still  fresh,  and  then  sticks  are  stretched  from  side  to 
side  to  keep  the  bark  from  rolling  up  and  closing.     It  is  a 


66  SWOLLEN  RIVERS 

very  slow  and  somewhat  uncanny  method  of  crossing  a 
river  in  which  crocodiles  or  hippopotami  may  be  lurking. 
Most  of  our  streams  only  run  in  the  rainy  season,  and 
then  they  fill  up  suddenly  with  the  great  downpours,  and 
come  tearing  along  with  alarming  force.  To  get  one's  loads 
and  oneself  across  these  swift  rivers  is  a  long  and  exciting 
process.  Sometimes,  we  may  get  two  boys  tied  to  a  long 
rope,  and  while  they  struggle  to  cross  the  other  carriers 
hold  on  to  the  other  end,  ready  to  pull  them  back,  should 
they  get  carried  off  their  feet.  Then  when  they  have 
succeeded  in  getting  over,  they  tie  the  rope  to  a  tree  on  the 
far  side,  and  we  pull  it  tight  and  tie  it  to  a  tree  on  our  side, 
and  then  we  go  carefully  across  swimming  or  walking  and 
holding  on  to  the  rope  with  one  hand. 

But  you  will  not  often  use  this  method.  The  usual 
fording  is  made  on  a  man's  shoulders.  Then  you  tremble 
for  yourself  all  the  way  across,  for  your  bearer  may  put  his 
foot  into  a  hole,  and  both  he  and  you  plunge  headlong  into 
the  stream.  Or  you  may  find  out  in  midstream  that  your 
bearer,  who  is  already  up  to  his  shoulders  in  water,  is  walking 
on  a  submerged  bridge  consisting  of  a  single  tree,  and  is 
going  so  slowly  because  he  is  feeling  with  his  foot  where  to 
place  each  step.  Suppose  he  were  to  miss  his  foothold, 
what  would  happen  ? 


CHAPTER  VI 
IN  A  VILLAGE 

IN  the  old  days  when  we  came  to  the  village  where  we 
wished  to  camp,  we  would  go  to  the  gate  of  the 
cattle-kraal,  and  wait  there  for  greetings,  and  then 
ask  for  a  place  where  we  might  erect  our  tent.  But  now 
the  villagers  all  know  us,  and  we  know  them,  so  the  men  go 
straight  on,  and  throw  down  their  bundles  in  the  cleanest 
place  they  can  see.  Then  a  site  for  the  tent  is  selected,  the 
women  and  children  are  called  on  to  sweep  the  ground 
thoroughly,  for  few  villages  in  their  normal  state  are  tidy. 
When  the  tent  is  pitched,  and,  if  it  is  the  rainy  season, 
trenched,  some  of  the  girls  go  off  with  calabashes  to  fetch 
water  for  us,  others  to  bring  in  firewood,  and  soon  the  cook- 
boy  has  his  pots  and  kettles  on  the  fire,  a  bath  is  ready  in 
the  tent,  and  the  scores  of  unoccupied  villagers,  who  have 
been  watching  every  item  in  the  operations,  begin  to 
disperse. 

At  first  shyness  subdues  everyone,  and  there  is  an  unusual 
quiet.  The  people  sit  about  in  some  awe  of  the  stranger 
who  has  come  among  them.  Women  stop  their  pounding 
and  kneel  beside  their  mortars,  and  children  stop  their  play 
and  scurry  behind  the  huts  if  he  happens  to  pass  near.  But 
if  the  visit  is  prolonged  for  two  or  three  days,  familiarity 
dispels  the  diffidence,  and  the  ordinary  stir  of  work  and 
play  reappears. 

When  one  does  not  want  to  live  in  the  midst  of  movement 
and  dirt  the  camp  should  be  pitched  just  outside,  under  the 

67 


68  A  NATIVE  HARP 

trees  on  clean  and  grassy  grounds  and  then  no  crowds  will 
hang  about  the  tent,  and  one's  bed  and  food  will  not  be 
powdered  by  the  dust  which  the  wind  whirls  about  the 
houses  all  day.  But  at  night  the  carriers  must  sleep  near 
the  tent,  with  fires  at  their  feet,  or  there  will  be  some  risk 
of  a  beast  of  prey  investigating  the  canvas  interior. 

Within  the  village  there  will  be  no  lack  of  society  through 
the  day  and  evening,  and  at  night  the  tent-doors  may 
usually  be  left  wide  open  for  ventilation.  But  one  can 
never  be  sure  of  a  good  rest  if  he  is  a  light  sleeper. 

There  may  be  music  from  some  wakeful  man  who  strums 
on  his  native  harp  a  monotonous  accompaniment  to  his 
song.  At  a  distance  these  stringed  instruments  sometimes 
sound  very  sweet ;  they  are  never  noisy,  and  a  good  gubu 
has  a  liquid  tone  that  is  most  soothing.  One's  sleep,  indeed, 
is  often  broken,  in  this  land  of  endless  variety,  but  not  by 
fiendish  motor-horns,  or  clanking  carts.  One  may  hear 
the  howl  of  hyenas,  and  perhaps,  if  there  is  a  good  moon, 
three  or  four  of  them  may  be  seen  stealing  through  the 
village  to  a  fowl  or  goat's  house.  Of  all  ridiculous  night 
sounds  there  is  none  to  equal  that  of  the  laughing  hyena. 
I  have  heard  it  about  my  tent  at  night,  and  thought  it  was 
some  drunk  or  mad  man  laughing  aloud  with  senseless  mirth. 

One  night  my  tent  was  pitched  beside  the  cattle-kraal  at 
the  entrance  to  the  village.  In  the  early  morning  I  was 
wakened  by  a  crash  near  me,  which  was  followed  by  the 
shouting  of  the  people.  A  leopard  had  stolen  past  the  tent, 
leapt  over  the  kraal  fence,  seized  a  calf,  and  throwing  it 
over  its  back  had  made  off.  Another  evening  I  was  startled 
by  a  horrid  yell  in  a  hut  near  me.  When  I  ran  out  to  see 
what  was  wrong,  I  found  that  my  cook  had  been  creeping 
out  of  the  low  door  of  his  hut  on  his  hands  and  knees,  and 
was  just  about  to  straighten  himself  when  he  realized  that 
he  was  face  to  face  with  a  leopard.  His  yell  was  a  perfect 
defence,  for  the  leopard  cleared  off  at  once. 


LIONS  69 

On  another  dark  and  moonless  night  I  was  awakened  by 
the  roar  of  lions  in  the  distance.  They  were  coming  nearer 
and  nearer  the  village,  and  I  could  hear  the  men  stirring  in 
their  huts  close  at  hand,  and  talking  in  low  voices.  Soon 
the  lions  were  in  the  village  and  walking  about  the  huts 
roaring  together.  One  of  the  carriers  began  to  shout  to 
them.  It  was  a  long  address,  in  which  he  assured  them 
there  were  no  people  here,  they  must  go  elsewhere  if  they 
were  looking  for  a  meal,  and  so  he  continued  with  loud 
monotony.  Meanwhile,  I  had  lit  a  candle,  and  sat  with  a 
gun  across  my  knees.  I  could  hear  the  lions  going  round 
about  the  tent,  so  near  that  the  crunching  of  dry  leaves 
beneath  their  feet  was  quite  audible.  But  I  did  not  dare 
to  fire,  for  there  were  huts  on  every  side,  and  the  night  was 
pitch  dark.  I  could  only  wait  with  a  good  deal  of  trepida- 
tion for  a  nose  to  be  thrust  in  at  the  door.  But  after  a 
little  the  lions  seemed  to  take  the  talker's  words  to  heart, 
for  they  left  the  village  without  doing  any  harm,  and  we 
could  hear  their  roars  decreasing  as  they  went  up  the 
valley. 

When  they  were  evidently  at  a  safe  distance,  a  voice 
called  from  the  near  hut,  "  Please,  sir,  matches." 

That  was  the  explanation  of  the  terror.  The  fire  had 
gone  out  for  it  was  a  warm  night,  and  the  men  missed  their 
best  protection. 

Sometimes  we  have  outbreaks  of  man-eating  lions  in 
certain  districts,  and  then  sleep  is  neither  easy  nor  calm. 
I  spent  a  fortnight  in  one  of  these  places,  hoping  daily  to 
get  a  shot  at  the  brutes,  but  never  succeeded  in  meeting 
them.  Yet  during  that  period  three  or  four  people  were 
killed  by  them  in  various  villages.  They  entered  one 
village  the  night  before  I  got  there,  and  coming  to  the 
teacher's  big  square  house,  one  of  them  had  stood  on  his 
hind-legs  and  looked  in  at  the  little  open  window  of  the 
room  where  the  teacher  and  his  wife  were  sleeping.     At 


70  VILLAGE  NOISE 

another  village,  while  I  was  touring  there,  they  had  climbed 
on  a  roof,  and  torn  the  hut  down.  It  fell  on  a  woman  and 
child  who  were  asleep  within,  but  the  lions  did  not  touch 
them. 

One  is  sure  to  be  told  when  lions  are  about,  and  then,  of 
course,  it  is  foolhardy  to  sleep  outside  the  village,  or  to  omit 
to  see  that  a  rifle  is  lying  handy  for  any  sudden  emergency. 
But  if  there  is  no  scare  of  wild  beasts,  the  night  is  not  likely 
to  be  disturbed  by  any  more  fearful  sound  than  the  lusty 
bleating  of  billy-goats  or  the  crying  of  a  child. 

If  you  love  to  tarry  in  bed  in  the  morning  never  camp  in 
a  village,  for  your  conscience  will  give  you  no  peace  when 
all  around  are  stirring,  and  you  alone  remain  in  bed.  The 
sounds  of  wakening  begin  at  earliest  dawn.  The  cocks,  of 
course,  have  been  crowing  with  vigour,  and  scores  of  pigeons 
in  the  near  dovecot  have  become  very  restless,  until  the 
little  block  of  wood  that  filled  their  doorway  has  been 
removed  by  some  early  riser,  and  they  have  flown  out  with 
a  loud  whirr  of  wings. 

By  the  time  the  sun  is  up  the  whole  village  is  astir,  and 
the  hum  and  noise  of  village  life  rise  on  every  side.  Men 
are  carrying  on  their  noisy  conversation.  Women  are 
pounding  maize  in  the  mortars.  They  have  been  at  it 
since  early  dawn.  Others  are  sitting  under  the  eaves  of 
their  houses,  talking  and  laughing  in  very  audible  fashion, 
and  much  of  their  gossip  is  not  pleasant  to  morally  delicate 
ears.  Children  are  crying  with  marvellous  lung-power. 
Pigeons  are  cooing  most  lustily,  and  constantly  flying  in 
great  flocks,  lighting  for  a  moment  and  then  rising  again 
before  some  hungry  dog  that  scavenges  for  a  tit-bit.  A 
mother  hen  is  leading  about  a  dozen  chicks  that  run  after 
her  anxious  clucking.  Goats  are  stamping  and  fighting  and 
bleating  in  the  log  goat-pen.  Cattle  are  lowing  in  the 
neighbouring  kraal  for  their  calves.  A  man  is  snuffing, 
and  is  having  a  wild  fit  of  coughing  to  show  his  polite  appre- 


CONTRASTS  71 

ciation  of  the  snuff  his  friend  has  handed  him.  Another  is 
smoking  hemp,  and  having  stentorian  and  most  distressing 
outbursts  of  a  choking  cough  which  ends  off  in  a  loud  chant. 
In  every  hut  conversation  is  going  on,  and  with  such  a 
merry  vigour  and  velocity  that,  had  one  inclination  and 
power  to  listen,  the  details  of  the  life  of  half  a  dozen 
families  could  be  heard  through  the  mud  walls. 

Yet  through  all  this  boom  and  surge  of  village  life,  one 
hears  the  twit-twit  of  several  wagtails  which  flit  about  on 
the  house-roofs,  and  break  into  a  short,  sweet  whistle. 
And  on  the  trees  outside  the  village  the  turtle-doves  are 
cooing  an  unending  song  to  one  another. 

The  village  atmosphere  can  scarcely  be  called  quiet,  but 
the  sounds  are  not  harsh.  There  is  no  piercing  rattle  of 
iron  wheels,  and  shod  hoofs  on  noisy  cobble-stones,  no 
startling  whistles  of  railway  trains,  or  the  hundred  mechan- 
ical, rasping  and  nerve-destroying  shrieks  and  clamours 
that  proclaim  an  awakened  town  at  home.  There  is  a 
harmony  and  blending  in  nearly  all  you  hear  in  this  village, 
and  when  there  comes  a  lull  of  crying  children  and  coughing 
men,  all  the  other  sounds  seem  soothing  and  pleasant, 
especially  if  you  are  at  peace  with  the  world,  and  with  the 
people  round  about  you. 

Now,  sit  with  me  at  the  tent-door  and  look  at  the  people 
who  pass  before  us  in  the  village.  You  will  have  little 
difficulty  in  distinguishing  the  Ngoni  head  men.  Those  who 
have  Swazi  blood  in  them  are  peculiarly  light  in  colour. 
Their  skins  are  almost  Indian  red.  The  men  of  Karanga 
origin  have  Semitic-looking  noses  and  are  handsome  big- 
boned  fellows.  All  have  great  holes  in  their  ear-lobes,  for 
that  is  the  Ngoni  tribal  mark,  and  some  of  the  dressy  men 
have  ivory  cylinders,  almost  an  inch  in  diameter,  thrust 
into  the  holes.  These  Ngoni  are  cleanly  men,  and  love  to 
decorate  their  persons.  The  head-ring  has  disappeared  in 
the  last  half-dozen  years,  especiallj'^  since  the  British  Govern- 


72        CICATRICES  AND  MARKINGS 

mcnt  began  to  administer  the  land.  It  was  the  married 
warrior's  crown.  Now  they  love  to  bind  bright-coloured 
bands  about  their  foreheads,  and  decorate  their  hair  with 
little  bladders,  or  crests  from  the  crane.  On  their  wrists 
and  ankles  they  wear  rings  of  plaited  brass  wire  finely  drawn 
out,  and  ivory  bracelets.  On  the  upper  part  of  their  arm 
they  wear  a  circlet  of  gall-bladder.  Their  one  garment  is 
usually  a  big  cloth  thrown  gracefully  round  the  body  and 
over  the  shoulder,  and  they  stride  past  us  with  a  magni- 
ficent dignity,  conscious  that  they  are  the  rulers  of  the 
people. 

The  Tumbuka  and  Chewa  slaves  are  quite  another  race. 
The  young  men  are  not  distinguishable  from  the  masters, 
but  the  older  men  and  women  who  were  captured  in  their 
youth  bear  the  marks  of  their  origin  very  prominently. 
The  Chewa  have  lines  cut  on  their  faces,  and  the  Tumbuka 
three  big  cicatrices  on  their  foreheads.  But  all  have  their 
ears  bored,  too,  after  the  Ngoni  fashion.  The  double 
markings  tell  the  tale  of  capture  and  incorporation  in  the 
tribe.  Their  children,  who  have  been  born  in  serfdom,  have 
no  mark  but  the  Ngoni  one.  Some  of  the  old  men  are  hairy 
and  fleshy,  and  their  features  are  covered  with  a  heavy 
growth  of  untrimmed  beards.  They  are  possibly  all  Chewa. 
The  Ngoni  pluck  the  hairs  from  their  bodies,  and  shave  their 
chins.  But  there  are  one  or  two  dandies  in  the  village  whose 
moustaches  and  beards  are  rolled  up  in  grass  as  in  curling- 
pins.  On  state  days  these  are  unloosened,  and  combed  out 
in  long  waving  luxuriance.  They  are  the  up-to-date  young 
bloods,  who  dress  in  white  shirts  and  trousers.  The  raw 
Tunibuka,  who  is  as  he  was  a  hundred  years  ago,  has  nothing 
on  him  that  has  been  white  for  many  a  year,  or  will  bear  a 
washing  now.  His  body  always  seems  to  be  unbathed, 
his  only  ornaments  are  dingy,  greasy  beads,  perhaps  of  old 
Arab  or  Biza  origin,  strung  round  his  neck  and,  perhaps,  the 
hairs  of  an  elephant's  tail  used  as  a  necklace,  or  as  bracelets. 


NGONI  AND  TUMBUKA  73 

The  faces  of  most  of  the  slavemen  and  women  who  have 
passed  middle  age  are  intensely  ugl3^  Deep  coarse  lines 
furrow  their  foreheads  and  eheeks,  the  marks  of  drunkenness, 
and  lust,  and  negleet.  Their  front  teeth  were  filed  in  their 
youth,  but  now  are  ugly  yellow  stumps,  that  seemed  to  be 
exposed  with  every  word  they  utter.  And  their  bodies 
are  seldom  straightened  out  in  conscious  dignity.  As  slaves 
they  have  learned  to  slouch  and  obey. 

The  young  girls  in  the  village  are  comely  enough  ;  some 
of  them,  I  should  say,  are  beautiful.  Their  well-rounded, 
lithe  bodies,  are  shown  without  immodesty,  for  their 
clothing  is  very  scant,  and,  somehow  a  black  skin  seems 
sufficient  dress  in  itself.  Bright  eyes  and  white  teeth  shine 
all  day,  and  their  feet  are  always  itching  for  the  dance. 
On  festal  days  the  Ngoni  girls  are  gaily  decorated  with  beads 
and  the  claws  of  lions  and  leopards  tied  about  their  heads, 
and  hung  on  their  necks.  They  usually  wear  a  large  brass 
collar  made  by  many  turns  of  wire,  which  looks  like  gold 
when  polished,  and  their  Tumbuka  sisters  hang  strings  of 
bright  beads  on  to  their  shapely  bodies. 

But  marriage  comes  soon,  and  motherhood,  and  hard- 
grinding  labour  from  morning  to  night.  And  the  bright  eyes 
become  dull,  and  the  washed,  anointed  body  becomes 
smudged  with  dirt,  and  loses  its  shapeliness.  And  so,  at 
middle-age,  they  sink  into  listless,  ugly,  and  dirty  hags, 
whose  tongues  can  be  awful  with  venom  and  filth. 

But  of  all  the  living  things  in  this  village  there  are  none 
so  attractive  as  the  little  boys  and  girls.  They  wear  no 
clothing,  and  in  the  hot  season  sometimes  wash  their  bodies 
and  anoint  them  with  castor-oil  ;  but  in  the  cold  they  are 
coated  with  a  fine  layer  of  grey  dirt  which  has  been  gathered 
from  the  village  earth  on  which  they  sit  and  sprawl. 

How  their  eyes  sparkle  with  animation,  and  their  teeth 
shine  in  constant  laughter  !  Their  legs  are  always  jumping 
into  dance,  and  their  whole  day  is  one  long  game.     When 


74  CHILDREN 

the  evening  comes,  and  the  hot  sun  is  sinking  below  the 
horizon,  every  child  in  the  village  will  be  frisking  about  like 
the  kids  that  butt  them — racing,  jumping,  playing  hide-and- 
seek,  and  dancing. 

Before  the  sun  has  grown  warm  the  village  empties,  and 
quiet  again  reigns.  The  little  boys  have  gone  off  with  the 
goats  to  pasture,  and  the  bigger  boys  have  led  out  the  cattle. 
Most  of  the  men  and  women  have  shouldered  hoes  or  axes, 
and  have  gone  off  to  the  fields  to  prepare  a  new  garden  or 
to  hoe  for  some  villager  who,  with  his  wives,  has  set  out 
before  them  bearing  great  gourds  full  of  beer  for  their 
refreshment.  About  the  kraal  gate  there  remain  two  or 
three  men  sewing  reed  mats  or  making  baskets,  and  behind 
the  houses  are  industrious  women  pounding  maize,  or 
sifting  the  meal  in  their  shallow  baskets. 

By  midday,  a  great  silence  has  fallen  over  all.  The  sun 
is  blazing  with  a  keen,  unclouded  heat.  The  trees  are  still, 
and  the  bare  leaves  have  turned  their  edges  to  the  blaze, 
unable  to  bear  its  fierceness.  From  the  ground  the  hot  air 
is  rising  with  visible  wavy  shimmer.  Within  the  huts 
some  men  are  sleeping,  others  are  lazily  talking  under  the 
eaves,  where  women  may  also  be  seen  lying  on  their  faces 
asleep.  Some  pigeons  are  still  active  and  run  about  the 
village  dust,  or  soar  noisily  to  their  cotes,  and  an  anxious 
mother  hen  still  runs  about  with  her  little  brood,  picking 
up  invisible  morsels. 

At  last  the  late  afternoon  draws  on,  bringing  a  welcome 
coolness.  The  workers  are  returning  from  the  gardens, 
some  of  them  singing  noisily  under  the  influence  of  beer. 
Most  of  the  women  are  carrying  great  loads  of  dry  firewood 
on  their  heads,  or  little  baskets  of  greens  for  relish,  for  on 
their  way  home  they  have  not  forgotten  their  domestic 
duties.  Then  the  goats  come  home  with  a  rush,  little 
boys  running  behind  them  driving  them  with  clubs,  and 
catching  the  mother  goats  that  they  may  tether  them  by 


THE  CLOSING  DAY  75 

one  leg  to  a  stake  before  they  are  finally  put  into  their 
pen. 

Now,  there  rises  a  distant  lowing,  and  trotting  up  the 
hill-side  comes  the  herd  of  cattle  calling  for  their  calves  that 
have  played  all  day  about  the  village  dust.  Some  herd- 
boys  are  riding  on  the  backs  of  the  cows,  and  blowing  hard 
on  their  pan  pipes.  Others  are  running  alongside  driving 
on  the  herd  with  whistling  and  the  blows  of  clubs.  And  so 
the  patient  beasts  crowd  to  the  kraal  gate,  and  struggle  for 
precedence  of  entrance.  On  the  great  ant-hill,  which  stands 
in  the  centre  of  the  kraal,  the  men  are  sitting,  watching  their 
cattle  come  in,  and  gloating  over  their  most  precious 
possessions. 

When  the  night  falls,  and  a  clear  moon  is  shining,  the 
young  people  are  almost  sure  to  break  into  dance,  if  the 
stranger's  presence  does  not  restrain  them.  The  moon 
decides  how  they  spend  their  nights.  When  full  moon  rises 
they  say,  "  It  has  drunk  water,"  for  it  rises  in  the  east  from 
the  water  that  encircles  the  earth.  On  the  third  night  after 
they  say,  "  It  sends  the  children  to  sleep,"  for  when  it  rises 
the  little  ones  are  fast  asleep  in  their  mothers'  huts,  and  all 
play  has  ceased.  On  the  fourth  night  they  say,  "  It  sends 
the  old  people  to  sleep,"  for  they  too  have  retired  and  are  in 
deep  sleep,  and  all  the  village  is  quiet  before  the  moon 
appears.  It  is,  therefore,  only  on  the  nights  of  the  first 
quarters  of  the  moon  that  the  young  people  indulge  in 
dancing,  on  other  nights  they  sit  over  the  fire  and  tell 
stories  till  bed-time.  But,  I  have  seen  inveterate  dancers 
sleep  until  ten  or  eleven,  and  then  when  the  moon  rose,  they 
seemed  to  wake  automatically  and  start  their  alfresco  ball. 

Now,  some  of  the  dances  are  very  pretty,  and  healthy 
exercises,  against  which  one  can  make  no  moral  objection. 
Especially  is  this  so  with  the  kraal  dances  of  the  Ngoni, 
called  the  ingoma.  But  I  do  not  think  the  same  can  be 
said  of  most  of  the  Central  African  dances.     There  are  not 


76  DANCES 

many  Europeans  who  have  seen  these  village  dances  worked 
out  to  their  climax.  But  I  have  frequently,  especially  in 
the  earlier  days,  before  our  strong  objection  to  them  was 
universally  known.  And  now  the  presence  of  a  European 
in  the  village  makes  them  ashamed  to  repeat  all  they  do 
when  they  are  alone,  for  they  know  it  is  foul. 

One  night,  when  a  number  of  boys  and  girls  were  sitting 
about  my  tent,  and  I  was  talking  with  their  elders,  I  said, 
"  Run  off,  children,  and  play."  "  Shall  we  ?  "  they  cried. 
"  Certainly,  it  is  better  than  sitting  here,"  I  replied  ;  and 
off  they  scampered.  In  a  few  minutes  I  heard  the  clapping 
of  hands  and  singing,  and  at  this  signal  for  a  dance  the  huts 
all  over  the  village  poured  out  their  sleepers.  After  a  time, 
I  went  along  to  see  their  romps,  and  found  some  hundreds 
gathered  in  a  large  ring,  the  males  forming  one  half  of  the 
circle,  and  the  females  the  other  half.  For  an  hour  or  two 
the  dance  went  on  very  merrily  and  gracefull3%  girls  per- 
forming by  themselves,  and  then  the  boys  by  themselves. 
But  as  they  warmed  up  to  the  fun  of  it  all,  the  action  became 
more  and  more  obscene,  urged  on  by  the  incitement  of  the 
old  women,  and  the  ribald  laughter  of  the  onlookers. 

I  turned  aside  to  my  tent  ashamed  for  what  I  saw,  and 
burning  with  a  sense  of  the  loathsomeness  that  had  been  let 
loose.  Next  morning  I  assembled  the  village,  and  spoke 
to  them  of  the  degradation  of  last  night's  performance.  I 
blushed  to  speak  of  these  things,  while  the  old  women  and 
girls  looked  up,  unashamed  and  wondering  at  my  denuncia- 
tion. But  when  I  had  finished,  some  of  the  elders  spoke  up, 
and  cried  :  "  You've  said  it.  It's  the  truth,  and  there  is 
never  a  night  that  these  Tumbuka  dances  are  performed, 
but  the  boys  are  incited  to  sin.  They  are  scattering  our 
villages." 


CHAPTER   VII 

PIONEERING  AMONG  THE  SENGA 

IN  1897,  Ngoniland  was  still  surrounded  by  a  wide  belt  of 
uninhabited  land.  To  the  east  lies  a  stretch  of  about 
fifty  miles  of  hill  country  which  extends  to  the  Lake. 
There  the  Tonga  and  Vipya  and  other  tribes  had  lived  before 
the  Ngoni  impis  appeared,  but  all  had  been  driven  away, 
and  the  country  was  a  vast  wilderness  covered  with  large 
trees,  save  on  the  wide  savannahs  where  nothing  but  grass 
and  bracken  grew.  The  Tonga  dwelt  on  a  narrow  belt  of 
country  close  by  the  shore  of  the  Lake,  and  among  them  we 
had  a  highly  successful  station  at  Bandawe. 

The  Henga  Valley,  once  the  residence  of  the  Henga  tribe, 
spreads  out  to  the  north  for  fifty  miles,  until  it  is  closed  in 
by  high,  steep  hills,  which  lead  to  the  almost  uninhabited 
Nyika  Plateau,  six  thousand  feet  above  sea-level.  This 
long  stretch  had  no  villages,  and  abounded  with  game. 

Beyond  the  southern  boundary  of  the  tribe  runs  a  wide 
undulating  country,  covered  with  trees,  and  gradually 
descending  for  nearly  a  thousand  feet  towards  the  Kasungu 
plain,  on  which  a  dense  population  of  Chewa  was  gathered. 
But  between  the  Chewa  and  Ngoni  nearly  eighty  miles  lay 
fallow  without  inhabitant.  Before  war  had  come  into  the 
land,  this  rich  but  rather  waterless  country  was  occupied 
by  the  Tumbuka  and  various  clans  of  the  Chewa  tribe. 
Kasungu  was  still  without  missionary  effort,  though  the 
British  Government  had  recently  established  a  fort  there  to 
protect  the  people. 

77 


78  THE  MARAMBO 

To  the  west  was  a  land  of  mystery.  For  sixty  miles, 
where  once  the  Tumbuka  people  lived,  no  village  smoke 
could  be  seen,  but  beyond  there  was  the  great  low-lying 
Loangwa  Valley,  in  which  the  Senga  had  built  their  fortified 
villages. 

With  some  representatives  of  the  Senga  we  frequently 
came  into  contact,  for  numbers  lived  among  the  Ngoni, 
fugitives  from  their  own  people,  or  captives  of  war,  and 
every  year  little  plundering  parties  still  went  forth  to  the 
west,  and  brought  back  tribute  of  ivory.  From  some  of  our 
schools,  also,  the  blue  sharp  peak  of  Parausenga  Mountain, 
standing  like  a  great  signpost  of  their  land,  was  visible  rising 
ovxr  the  flat  horizon.  And  when  one  questioned  the  people 
about  what  lay  there,  they  told  of  heat  and  thirst,  of  game 
and  elephants,  and  of  a  poor  harried  tribe,  living  in  terror  of 
Wemba  and  Ngoni  forays. 

After  much  desiring,  and  some  efforts,  an  opportunity 
came  to  me  to  cross  the  desert  belt  and  visit  the  Marambo*, 
as  the  land  in  the  Loangwa  Valley  is  called.  I  was  travelling 
along  our  western  border,  when  I  came  to  the  village  of  one 
of  Mombera's  indunas.  He  was  sitting  over  his  beer,  and 
was  fairly  far  advanced  in  the  stages  of  his  daily  intoxica- 
tion. We  talked  together  for  some  time,  but  the  beer  and  a 
bad  stammer  with  which  his  impetuosity  afflicted  him,  made 
him  almost  incomprehensible.  There  was  one  recurring 
theme,  however,  which  by  much  repetition  soon  became 
very  distinct.  He  was  demanding  guns  from  me  that  he 
might  follow  some  Senga  slaves  who  had  escaped  to 
Marambo.  Of  course,  I  would  not  give  them  to  him,  and 
when  I  explained  that  I  was  eager  to  visit  the  Senga  in  their 
own  country,  he  assured  me  it  was  impossible,  for  there  was 
no  one  who  knew  the  path.     War  had  long  ago  closed  up 

*  Marambo  means  flat  forest  laud,  and  although  d  and  /  are  inter- 
changeable, lundambo  is  clearly  distinguished  from  marambo.  Madambo 
are  open  wet  lands. 


Ngoni  Women 

The  lady  on  the  left  is  a  chief's  wife,  the  one  on  the  right  is  a 
teacher's  wife.  The  chief's  wife  has  a  band  ot  lion  and  leopard  claws 
on  her  head  and  neck,  for  these  are  the  property  of  the  chief.  They 
both  wear  the  large  ivory  ear  ornaments. 


Senga  Women 

Notice  the  tribal  characteristics.  The  line  of  cicatrices  on  the  orehead — the  great 
"  pelele"  of  ivory  on  the  upper  lip.  The  second  woman  on  the  right  has  also  a  wire 
nail  dandling  from  her  lower  lip. 


INTO  THE  UNKNOWN  79 

every  line  of  communication.  But  during  our  conversation 
I  learned  that  he  had  one  or  two  elephant-hunters  among 
his  people  who  crossed  over  to  Marambo  every  year.  So 
I  begged  that  he  would  give  them  to  me  as  guides,  and 
I  would  open  up  a  road. 

After  much  cavilling,  he  at  last  yielded  to  my  urgency, 
and  promised  to  send  for  the  men,  and  we  resolved  to  seize 
the  opportunity  and  start  out.  I  had  with  me  provisions 
sufficient  to  last  for  three  weeks,  and  all  the  necessaries  for 
a  journey.  So  next  morning,  after  sending  on  a  note  to 
Mr.  Stuart  to  tell  him  that  I  was  making  a  bolt  for  the  west, 
we  started  out  with  our  guides.  One  has  made  the  journey 
a  dozen  times  since  then,  as  have  many  other  Europeans, 
and  made  it  with  little  difficulty  or  wonder.  But  to  be  the 
first  to  cross  over  closed  land,  and  open  up  an  unknown 
tribe,  has  a  spice  of  adventure  with  which  no  succeeding 
journey  can  ever  again  be  seasoned.  Our  first  two  days  out 
were  sore  travelling.  There  were  no  human  paths,  but  we 
wound  along  game  tracks,  or  crossed  through  woods  whose 
short  grass  did  not  annoy  the  carriers'  bare  feet  overmuch. 
Water  was  scarce,  and  could  only  be  got  at  long  intervals. 
All  the  time  we  were  descending  slowly,  until  we  came  to 
a  series  of  stony  hills  which  fall  away  to  the  Loangwa 
Valley.  From  the  summit  of  them  we  enjoyed  our  first  view 
of  this  great  plain.  It  stretched  to  the  north  and  to  the 
south  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach.  In  the  dim  west  it  was 
closed  in  by  the  vast  range  of  Mchinga  Mountains,  seventy 
miles  and  more  from  where  we  stood. 

The  plain  was  covered  by  trees,  not  a  bare  patch  was 
visible  anywhere,  and  it  all  seemed  so  flat  that  in  the  soft 
evening  light  it  might  have  been  a  vast  lake.  At  one  or 
two  distant  spots  we  could  see  columns  of  smoke  rising, 
which  revealed  the  presence  of  inhabitants.  But  no  village 
or  garden  could  be  discerned  at  any  point. 

For  some  hours  we  continued  descending,  tearing  through 


80  DIGGING  FOR  WATER 

much  thorny  thicket,  and  painfully  wading  in  the  loose  sand 
of  dry  river-beds.  When  evening  fell  we  were  out  on  the 
plain,  but  our  guides  declared  that  they  had  lost  their  way, 
though  they  had  some  idea  of  the  general  direction.  This 
was  painful  news  for  the  carriers,  whose  feet  were  sore  with 
thorns  and  stones  and  burning  sand,  and  they  were  ready  to 
speak  very  sharply.  But  as  the  guides  were  timid  of  us,  and 
we  were  entirely  dependent  on  them,  we  tried  to  swallow  our 
irritation,  and  told  them  to  lead  on  to  water  where  we  might 
camp.  The  moon  was  late  in  rising,  and  it  was  no  pleasant 
task  to  follow  them  in  the  dark  through  tangled  grass  and 
pathless  thicket.  At  last  we  debouched  on  the  wide  sandy 
bed  of  a  river.  With  a  cry  of  relief  the  men  ran  down  the 
banks,  and  flinging  themselves  on  the  sand  began  to  scoop 
for  water — but  in  vain.  It  was  evident,  however,  that  with 
a  little  patience  we  must  be  successful.  So  with  a  combined 
effort  we  cleared  a  large  circle  and  began  to  dig  vigorously 
with  our  hands.  After  going  down  for  several  feet,  our 
efforts  were  rewarded,  for  we  came  to  damp  sand,  and  finally 
to  fresh  water.  A  little  basin  was  dug  out  in  which  the 
water  might  collect,  and  soon  we  had  enough  to  satisfy  all 
our  needs. 

Here,  then,  we  prepared  to  spend  the  night,  but  first  had 
some  questioning  of  our  guides.  As  they  declared  that  one 
of  the  Senga  stockades  was  built  near  this  river,  and  could 
not  be  far  off,  we  asked  them  to  follow  the  river-bed,  until 
they  came  to  the  village,  and  warn  the  people  that  they  were 
not  to  be  afraid  if  they  saw  our  fires  at  night.  We  were  not 
an  impi,  but  a  party  of  friendly  visitors.  After  the  guides 
had  been  away  some  time,  they  returned  saying  that  they 
had  found  no  village,  but  had  been  met  on  the  river-bed  by 
two  hyenas,  and  so  had  returned.  One  or  two  of  the  carriers 
seized  their  spears  and  volunteered  to  go  back  with  them 
and  have  a  thorough  search.  So  they  sped  forth  again, 
and  we  went  on  with  the  preparations  for  our  evening  meal. 


SENGA  VISITORS  81 

When  an  hour  or  two  had  passed  we  heard  the  sound  of 
voices,  and,  by  the  light  of  the  moon,  the  guides  were  seen 
returning,  accompanied  by  twoscore  Senga,  who  came 
striding  over  the  loose  sand  with  the  ease  of  men  for  whom 
those  river-beds  are  the  main  roads.  The  village  had  been 
discovered,  and  the  villagers  had  sallied  forth  to  welcome 
the  white  man.  After  friendly  greetings  were  exchanged, 
and  the  visitors  had  expressed  their  joy  at  our  coming,  we 
sent  them  home  assuring  them  that  we  would  pass  through 
their  village  in  the  morning. 

Next  morning  we  were  all  ready  to  be  off  by  sunrise,  and 
impatient  for  our  first  sight  of  the  Senga  and  their  stockades. 
We  had  not  gone  far  before  we  were  met  by  numbers  of 
people  coming  out  to  meet  us,  the  women  calling  their  shrill 
welcome,  and  the  men  clapping  their  hands  and  singing. 
We  had  come  into  Tembwe's  country,  and  soon  were  passing 
through  his  first  village.  Here  we  did  not  stop  for  more 
than  the  few  minutes  necessary  to  receive  several  baskets  of 
flour  and  a  fowl,  as  a  hospitable  gift  from  the  people.  And 
then  with  a  great  procession  of  the  villagers,  old  and  young, 
we  marched  the  remaining  mile  or  two  to  the  chief's  stockade. 

Presently  we  saw  a  vast  bank  of  thorn  trees  before  us, 
standing  fifty  or  sixty  feet  high,  and  apparently  impenetrable. 
But  the  path  led  us  round  by  an  opening  in  the  thicket,  and 
over  a  bank  of  ashes  and  refuse,  the  accumulation  of  years 
of  sweepings.  Rats  innumerable  scurried  off  into  the  dense 
weedy  growth  by  the  side  as  we  passed  along  to  the  village 
gate.  The  palisade,  without  which  we  stood,  stretched 
completely  round  the  village  in  a  huge  circle.  It  was  com- 
posed of  tall  thin  trees  fifteen  feet  long,  firmly  fixed  in  the 
ground,  and  bound  by  light  twigs.  The  gate  was  a  large 
slab  of  wood,  eight  feet  by  three,  adzed  to  the  thickness 
of  two  inches,  and  hung  on  pivots.  Over  the  entrance,  fixed 
on  the  tall  stakes,  human  skulls  were  grinning. 

We  passed  through  the  gate  and  found  ourselves  in  a 


82  A  SENGA  VILLAGE 

village  of  about  two  hundred  houses.  These  were  packed 
so  closely  together  that  their  caves  touched  one  another, 
and  the  path  by  which  movement  was  possible  wound  in 
and  out  in  an  uncertain  way  which  was  only  determined 
by  the  accident  of  sufficient  space  having  been  left  between 
some  houses.  The  huts  were  built  of  split  bamboo  laced 
about  a  circle  of  stakes,  and  mudded  with  a  grey  clay. 
They  were  very  diminutive,  many  being  not  more  than  seven 
or  eight  feet  in  diameter.  In  the  heart  of  the  village  stood 
huge  grain  bins,  that  towered  above  the  palisade,  and  were 
entered  from  the  top  by  means  of  ladders. 

The  place  was  appallingly  dirty.  The  site  consisted  of 
sandy  soil,  that  worked  loose  with  the  constant  tread  of 
human  feet.  All  manner  of  refuse  lay  about  in  heaps,  and 
nowhere  more  so  than  in  the  little  open  space  where  a  few 
men  were  engaged  at  a  native  loom  weaving  their  strong 
but  coarse  cotton  cloths. 

When  we  sat  down  before  the  chief's  house,  where  there 
was  a  little  more  room  for  movement,  the  din  of  our  welcome 
was  deafening.  But  through  it  all  there  reigned  so  great 
timidity,  that  any  sudden  movement  on  my  part  would 
lead  to  the  helter-skelter  flight  of  all  the  women  and  children. 

Tembwe  was  distinctly  nervous,  and  allowed  his  more 
energetic  son  to  make  all  the  advances  to  friendship.  He  is 
rather  an  ignoble-looking  African,  much  bent,  and  per- 
petually engaged  in  fingering  his  cloths,  and  seeing  that 
the  stump  of  his  maimed  right  hand  is  entirely  hidden  under 
a  fold.  His  conversation  is  very  terse,  and  seldom  consists 
of  more  than  "  Yes,  yes,  yes."  But  he  is  one  of  the  most 
influential  of  the  Senga  chiefs,  and  has  a  fairly  keen  per- 
ception of  what  will  be  to  his  own  advantage. 

We  remained  two  or  three  days  in  this  village,  most 
hospitably  entertained  with  abundance  of  meal,  and  success- 
fully disarming  the  fears  of  the  people  about  us.  But  our 
nights  were  made  miserable  by  the  scurrying  of  innumerable 


INSANITARY  CONDITIONS  83 

rats  up  and  down  the  tent  or  over  one's  pillow  and  blankets. 
One  day  I  spoke  to  Tembwe  about  the  insanitary  condition 
of  his  village,  and  remarked  that  owing  to  its  dirt  more 
children  were  dying  within  the  stockade  every  year  than 
the  Ngoni  impis  had  killed.  He  listened,  and  assented  with 
his  silly  "  Yes,  yes,  yes."  But  that  night  the  message 
filtered  through  to  his  brain,  or  else  his  evening  potations 
greatly  inspired  him,  for  sometime  after  midnight  I  was 
startled  out  of  sleep  by  someone  roaring  in  thunderous 
voice  through  the  village.  Up  and  down  and  round  the 
stockade  the  voice  shouted.  It  was  Tembwe  on  a  new 
crusade,  and  his  words  were,  "  Women  all,  rise  and  sweep  ! 
The  white  man  says  the  children  are  dying  because  the 
village  is  not  swept.  Rise  and  sweep  !  Rise  and  sweep  !  " 
And  when  he  had  finished  his  heralding,  a  fox  called  in  the 
thicket  outside.  Now  the  Senga  say  that  w^hen  the  fox  calls 
at  the  village  a  death  is  near,  and  that  night  its  warning 
sealed  Tembwe's  witness,  and  I  could  hear  women  in  the 
huts  all  over  the  village  pushing  open  their  reed  doors  with 
a  sleepy  grumble,  and  going  forth  to  their  new  task.  When 
the  morning  came  there  was  a  choking  dust  in  the  air,  and 
the  first  lesson  of  civilization  had  been  learned,  I  had  been 
the  teacher,  but  it  was  Tembwe  and  the  fox  who  had  driven 
it  home. 

Leaving  Tembwe's  villages  after  listening  to  his  urgent 
requests  that  he  should  have  a  school,  and  teachers,  we 
marched  south,  and  for  the  next  few  days  passed  each  night 
within  a  stockade  very  similar  to  Tembwe's.  Most  days  we 
were  marching  through  a  forest  of  tall  3Ipani  trees.  The 
land  lies  perfectly  flat,  slightly  seamed  where  rivers  have 
run  in  the  wet  season,  and  cracked  where  a  pool  of  water 
has  stood.  The  woods  are  free  from  undergrowth,  and  bush 
and  rank  grass,  except  just  by  the  side  of  the  Loangwa,  or 
by  some  village  site.  Water  is  hard  to  find.  What 
with  a  blazing  sun  overhead,  from  which  the  Mpani  gives 


84  ABUNDANT  ANIMAL  LIFE 

no  shade,  for  its  leaves  turn  vertically  when  it  is  hot,  and 
the  long  marches  with  no  moisture  for  parched  throats,  a 
journey  in  Marambo  can  become  very  trying.  But  I  have 
seen  no  land  that  grips  the  traveller  like  it.  The  great  flat 
clean  forest  stretches  out  on  all  sides.  For  miles  and  miles 
we  march  seeing  no  sign  of  human  habitation,  but  all  the 
time  the  forest  is  alive  with  other  creatures.  Every  few 
yards  tiny  squirrels  leap  before  us,  and  running  up  a  tall 
tree,  watch  us  pass  from  some  hollow  in  the  trunk.  Flocks 
of  bright-coloured  birds  pirouette  in  the  air  by  our  side, 
every  change  of  direction  revealing  a  change  of  colour  from 
red  to  blue  and  from  blue  to  red.  Scores  and  scores  of  wood 
pigeons  rise  in  clouds  from  the  ground  to  the  trees.  Herds 
of  graceful  mpala  leap  across  the  path  and  stand  a  hundred 
yards  away  gazing  inquisitively. 

Farther  in  among  the  trees  large  antelope,  roan,  eland, 
waterbuck  are  quietly  feeding,  and  sometimes  jackals,  or 
hunting-dogs  bark  at  us  impertinently,  until  we  throw  stones 
at  them.  And  all  the  way  along  troops  and  troops  of 
baboons  and  monkeys  swing  down  from  trees  and  retire 
leisurely  to  a  short  distance  from  which  they  may  watch  us 
with  a  ridiculous  solemnity. 

And  then  we  come  to  the  Loangwa,  in  the  hot  season 
running  over  shallow  sand,  and  safe  enough  now  for  a  bathe 
and  a  long  wade.  The  voracious  crocodiles  have  gone  to  its 
lower  reaches,  or  are  in  the  deeper  pools,  and  we  can  lie  with 
safety  in  the  shade  in  the  delicious  clear  water,  and  get  a  new 
gift  of  life  and  strength  from  the  flowing  river,  after  days  on 
the  thirsty  plain.  But  to  see  the  mighty  river  in  the  months 
of  flood  is  greater  still.  How  its  rushing  brown  waters  used 
to  call  one,  coming  as  they  do  from  the  far  north  through 
lands  that  were  unknown,  passing  on  through  others  full  of 
mystery,  and  romance,  and  unlightened  heathenism,  until 
they  fall  into  the  Zambesi. 

Some  days  of  interesting  wandering  from  village  to  village 


CHIKWA  85 

brought  us  at  last  to  Chikwa's.  This  was  the  largest  of  all 
the  Marambo  towns,  and  had  about  three  hundred  huts. 
But  if  Tembwe's  place  was  filthy  what  may  we  call 
Chikwa's  ?  The  houses  were  more  ancient-looking,  the 
rubbish  heaps  larger,  the  thicket  more  impenetrable,  and 
the  smelling  tangle  of  weeds  that  grew  around  more  offensive, 
and  more  alive  with  rats  and  snakes. 

Chikwa  was  a  woman,  she  is  dead  now,  sister  to  the  last 
Chikwa,  whose  chieftainship  she  held  until  her  son  should  be 
of  age,  for  inheritance  is  by  nephew,  i.e.  by  sister's  son. 
She  was  tributary  to  Ng'onomo,  with  whom  she  retained 
a  precarious  peace  by  annual  gifts  of  ivory,  but  had  built 
far  out  on  the  Loangwa  Valley,  in  the  depths  of  this  dense 
thicket,  that  she  might  escape  the  harassments  of  the  war- 
parties.  The  fact  that  we  had  come  from  Ngoniland  was 
not  at  all  to  her  liking,  and  she  seemed  overawed  by  us,  and 
by  no  means  pleased  to  see  us.  The  days  we  spent  in  her 
chief  village  were  not  very  cheerful.  The  heat  was  great, 
and  we  had  no  shade  within  the  stockade.  We  could  not 
pitch  the  tent  outside  for  the  undergrowth  was  rank  and  the 
vicinity  insanitary  and  odoriferous,  while  man-eating  lions 
were  prowling  about  nightly.  But  we  found  a  number  of  eager 
listeners  who  called  for  Peace  from  their  perpetual  wars,  and 
for  Light  to  disperse  their  darkness.  And  when  we  left,Chikwa, 
too,  had  agreed  to  receive  teachers  when  we  could  send  them. 

The  Senga  are,  physically,  the  feeblest  race  I  know  in 
Central  Africa.  Their  land  is  hot  and  unhealthy,  and  child- 
marriage  was  common  among  them.  From  the  west  the 
Wemba  raided  them,  and  in  many  villages  you  may  see  the 
marks  of  the  cruelty  of  those  fierce  fighters  in  handless 
wrists,  and  noses  and  ears  sliced  off.  The  Ngoni  also  passed 
over  their  lands  almost  every  year.  Hence  they  built  their 
villages  in  strong  pestiferous  thickets,  and  almost  every 
grown  man  seemed  to  be  provided  with  an  old  "Tower" 
gun,  or  with  a  bow  and  arrow. 


86  SENGA   ORIGIN 

They  are  a  composite  tribe,  partly  of  Tumbuka  and  partly 
of  Biza  origin.  Early  last  century  Biza  incursions  came 
down  from  the  Mchinga  Plateau,  fleeing  before  the  continual 
harassments  of  the  Wemba  warriors.  They  had  been 
preceded,  perhaps  thirty  years  before,  by  small  advance 
parties  of  fugitives  under  Pondo,  who  settled  on  the  west 
bank  of  the  Loangwa,  and  Chimwerampandi  (the  palm-wine 
drinker),  who  drove  out  the  Tumbuka  autochthones  who 
were  settled  all  over  the  plain.  The  first  leader  of  the 
main  invasion,  which  followed  shortly  after,  was  called 
Chikwa,  and  his  successors  each  assumed  his  name  at  their 
coronation.  After  Chikwa  came  Tembwe,  Kambombo  and 
others  who  all  acknowledged  Chikwa's  suzerainty.  They 
found  the  plain  occupied  by  the  Tumbuka  people  who 
were  thinly  spread  out  from  the  Mchinga  mountains  to 
the  plateau  where  the  Ngoni  now  are.  These  Tumbuka 
were  driven  before  them  to  the  east,  only  one  or  two  petty 
chiefs  remaining. 

Their  language  at  first  was  Chibiza.  But  it  is  curious  to 
notice  in  these  regions  how  the  language  of  the  soil  eventually 
prevails.  Thus,  Chingoni  is  rapidly  disappearing  before 
Chitumbuka,  although  fifteen  or  twenty  years  ago  Chingoni 
was  spoken  throughout  the  Tumbuka  country.  So  the  Chibiza 
was  soon  lost,  and  to-day  the  language  of  the  Senga  is 
Chitumbuka,  with  a  number  of  Chibiza  words  retained. 
I  fancy  the  explanation  of  this  is  that  the  Biza  invaders 
took  Tumbuka  wives,  and  as  the  children  learn  first  the 
language  of  their  mothers,  the  next  generation  lapsed  back 
to  what  was  the  language  of  the  soil. 

Thirty  or  forty  years  after,  a  great  number  of  Tumbuka  re- 
turned to  the  Loangwa  Valley  and  built  villages  there,  having 
been  driven  back  by  an  invasion  of  the  Kamanga  tribe  from 
the  north,  who  also  were  fugitives  from  the  oppression  of 
strangers.  But  these  Tumbuka  returned  again  to  the  hills 
when  the  Kamanga  power  was  broken.     In  this  way,  the 


A  TERRIBLE  THIRST  87 

Biza  invaders  have  been  surrounded  by  Tumbuka  influences, 
and  have  been  submerged  by  them.  They  call  themselves 
Senga,  that  is,  "  the  people  of  the  sand,"  for  the  soil  of 
the  plain  is  very  sandy.  Their  tribal  markings  are  a  semi- 
circle of  minute  cicatrices  extending  over  the  forehead  from 
temple  to  temple,  and  met  by  radii  from  the  eyes  and  the 
bridge  of  the  nose. 

The  front  teeth  are  filed  to  a  sharp  point,  and  the  women 
wear  huge  ivory  ornaments  in  their  upper  and  lower  lips, 
which  stick  out  their  mouths  like  a  duck's  bill. 

From  Chikwa's  we  turned  our  steps  towards  Ngoniland. 
The  whole  of  the  first  morning's  journey  was  made  over 
a  wide  river-bed.  There  was  only  a  trickle  of  water 
meandering  through  the  field  of  sand,  and  at  each  step  we 
took  we  seemed  to  sink  three  or  four  inches  in  the  loose  soil. 
Every  mile  or  two  we  sat  down  utterly  exhausted,  with 
perspiration  running  down  our  bodies  in  streams.  At  last, 
in  the  early  afternoon,  we  got  to  the  foot-hills,  and  with 
firmer  ground  began  to  make  a  good  pace.  Up  and  down 
the  stony  hills  we  went,  expecting  to  find  water  at  every 
dip,  and  a  suitable  place  for  camping,  but  none  appeared. 
The  sun  went  down,  and  we  were  still  pressing  on  in  hopes 
of  water.  The  fierce  heat  of  the  plain,  and  our  arduous  toil 
in  the  river-bed,  had  made  our  thirst  greater  than  usual ; 
but  no  means  of  quenching  it  could  be  found.  It  grew  dark 
and  the  stars  shone  out,  but  still  no  signs  of  water.  Then 
someone  stumbled  and  dropped  his  axe,  and  was  either  too 
exhausted  or  disheartened  to  stoop  and  pick  it  up ;  then 
another  axe  fell,  and  now  we  saw  we  must  halt  and  camp 
there  for  the  night. 

We  lay  about  the  fires,  and  went  to  sleep  supperless,  and 
with  our  mouths  parched.  I  spent  the  night  dreaming 
I  was  bathing  in  cold  Scottish  burns,  and  that  I  sat  with 
open  mouth  under  a  waterfall,  but  every  now  and  then 
I  wakened  up  to  the  grim  reality. 


88  A  TERRIBLE  THIRST 

In  the  early  morning  we  started  off  again,  with  great 
eagerness,  but  hungry  and  thirsty.  We  had  not  gone  many 
miles  when  we  saw  the  ground  fall  away  to  some  pleasant 
green  grass  and  shrubs,  so  off  the  men  set  at  a  run  with  the 
sure  promise  of  water,  and  they  were  not  disappointed. 
I  was  soon  seated  on  the  grass  in  the  height  of  bliss,  with 
a  great  pail  before  me  full  of  cool  clear  water,  and  by  my 
side  smoke  was  rising  from  a  fire  on  which  the  pots  were 
already  set,  and  the  most  delicious  breakfast  I  had  eaten 
for  months  was  cooking. 

The  following  day  we  were  in  Ngoniland,  and  among 
Ng'onomo's  villages,  drinking  milk,  eating  mutton,  and 
feeling  that  this  surely  was  Paradise. 


CHAPTER   VIII 
RELIGIOUS  AWAKENING 

THERE  is  an  endless  variety  in  mission  work.  Our 
days  are  not  spent  under  palm  trees  expounding 
the  Bible,  but  in  a  constant  round  of  duties  which 
touch  the  lives  of  the  people  on  every  side. 

Industrial  work  has  always  had  a  large  share  of  our  time. 
In  a  land  like  this  almost  every  necessary  and  comfort  of 
life  has  to  be  made  on  the  spot,  and  the  making  of  these 
provides  a  vast  amount  of  labour  for  the  people,  and  teaches 
valuable  lessons  which  help  to  form  the  citizens  of  a 
civilized  community.  We  must  have  houses  to  live  and 
work  in,  and  miserable  mud  erections  will  neither  preserve 
our  health  and  spirits,  nor  raise  the  ambitions  of  the  people. 
Besides,  there  is  no  form  of  dwelling  more  expensive  than 
a  temporary  house  which  always  needs  rebuilding.  If  some 
critic  says  that  other  Europeans  live  in  poor  cheap  erections, 
but  we  missionaries  take  care  to  make  ourselves  comfortable, 
I  reply  that  we  remain  longer  in  the  land,  and  do  more 
cheerful  work  by  having  good  housing,  and  are  able  to  have 
wife  and  family  about  us,  and  that  is  invaluable  for  ourselves 
and  our  influence.  Besides,  every  good  house  well  built  has 
been  a  long  training  in  industry  and  honest  workmanship 
for  the  natives  who  have  erected  it. 

We  never  seem  to  be  free  from  building  and  carpentry. 
New  houses  are  always  rising,  and  there  is  a  constant  demand 
for  more  house  and  school  furniture.  Roads  and  gardens 
must  be  made  and  all  kinds  of  repairs  are  necessary,  so  we 

89 


90  SCHOOLS 

have  to  learn  to  put  our  hands  to  many  a  trade,  and 
to  superintend  many  a  gang  of  labourers.  While  these 
activities  may  minister  to  ourselves  in  great  measure,  they 
are  proving  all  the  time  how  much  more  remunerative  labour 
is  than  raiding,  they  are  creating  new  ambitions  in  the  minds 
of  the  people,  and  increasing  their  intelligence. 

Schools  are  necessary  in  Africa  for  evangelization.  They 
prepare  the  minds  of  the  people  for  the  message  we  bring. 
I  do  not  think  any  missionary  finds  that  the  Gospel  breaks 
with  the  suddenness  of  a  great  flash  on  heathen  darkness. 
Repetition  is  essential  before  the  native  becomes  familiar 
enough  with  a  truth  to  assimilate  it. 

A  great  clearing  of  superstitions,  of  mental  lethargy,  and 
of  traditional  prejudices  must  be  made  before  we  have 
a  prepared  soil  for  planting.  And  this  pioneer  work  is  one 
of  the  chief  functions  of  the  school. 

Our  whole  educational  system  is  still  in  an  elementary 
condition  ;  the  teachers  whom  we  use  are  very  imperfect 
pedagogues,  and  I  do  not  think  that  the  scholastic  results 
of  our  huge  number  of  schools  are  at  all  satisfactory.  But 
the  chief  asset  of  our  teachers  is  not  their  literary  training, 
but  their  character.  The  chief  result  of  the  schools  is  the 
atmosphere  which  they  create,  and  which  is  influencing  the 
whole  social  life  of  the  people.  Thus,  we  have  seen  intelli- 
gence laugh  away  many  an  oppressive  superstition,  the  spirit 
and  custom  of  raiding  entirely  cease,  a  new  era  of  industry 
awakening,  and  these  are  directly  traceable  to  the  work 
of  our  imperfect  schools. 

But  I  should  have  little  satisfaction  in  seeing  the  war 
spirit  declining  before  the  spirit  of  peace,  and  more  intelli- 
gence and  comfort  coming  into  the  lives  of  the  people,  if 
these  were  not  accompanied  by  a  living  faith  in  Jesus  Christ, 
to  give  permanence  and  vigour  to  the  new  civilization.  The 
African  cannot  progress  apart  from  religion.  His  social 
morality  is  maintained  by  reverence  for  tribal  bonds  and 


OUR  TEMPORARY  CHURCH  91 

for  the  dim  beliefs  he  has.  If  an  advanced  civilization 
comes  which  breaks  these  bonds  and  dispels  this  faith, 
though  it  may  make  him  a  richer  and  more  industrious  man, 
it  will  leave  him  a  moral  derelict  on  seas  that  are  more  than 
tempestuous,  unless  it  give  also  the  guiding  and  propelling 
power  of  faith  in  Christ. 

I  believe  that  there  is  no  regenerative  force  in  the  world 
like  the  Love  of  God.  When  men  come  to  know  its  shining, 
cruelty  and  lust  give  way  to  kindliness  and  purity,  indolence 
to  industry,  ignorance  to  intelligence,  and  I  hope  that  before 
the  reader  has  laid  aside  this  book,  he  will  acknowledge  that 
this  fact  has  been  demonstrated  in  Ngoniland. 

With  a  deep  conviction  in  our  minds  of  the  renewing 
power  of  the  Gospel,  we  tried  to  surround  our  touring,  and 
schools,  and  industries,  with  the  atmosphere  of  our  faith, 
that  men  might  come  to  worship  the  incomparable  Person 
whom  we  preached. 

It  was,  therefore,  with  great  thankfulness  that  we  began 
to  see  a  strong  religious  movement  evidencing  itself.  One 
of  the  first  signs  was  the  increase  in  the  Sunday  congrega- 
tions. The  little  brick  school  at  Ekwendeni,  which  also 
served  as  church,  was  proving  too  small  for  the  worshippers, 
many  of  whom  sat  without  at  the  doors  and  windows, 
joining  with  us  as  they  could.  So  we  decided  to  erect  a 
larger  and  temporary  church.  To  do  this  we  called  for  the 
voluntary  labour  of  the  people,  which  w^as  readily  given. 
The  two  local  chiefs  led  out  the  men  to  the  woods,  and 
returned  with  trees,  the  widows  of  the  late  chief  went  forth 
with  the  women,  and  all  day  these  stout,  matronly  persons 
could  be  seen  waddling  at  the  head  of  great  processions 
of  their  sex  carrying  bundles  of  grass  on  their  heads. 

Our  church  was  to  be  of  a  very  temporary  type,  and  we 
built  it  with  a  framework  of  sticks  and  lined  the  sides  with 
grass.  The  roof  was  supported  by  a  long  line  of  tall,  forked 
trees,  on  which  a  ridge  of  poles  rested.     In  my  impatience 


92  OUR  FIRST  CONVENTION 

and  ignorance  I  sent  a  swarm  of  teachers  to  thatch  the  roof. 
But  their  combined  weight  proved  too  great  for  the  frame- 
work, and  I  was  suddenly  horrified  to  hear  a  loud  cracking 
sound  as  the  forked  trees  spilt  from  top  to  bottom,  and 
thatchers  and  roof  disappeared  in  a  cloud  of  dust  into 
the  interior.  Happily,  no  one  was  hurt,  and  with  plenty  of 
merriment  over  the  accident,  all  hands  set  to  work  to  repair 
the  damage  done. 

But  when  my  practical  and  experienced  colleague 
Mr.  Stuart  arrived  on  the  scene  he  condemned  our  crude 
efforts,  and  set  himself  to  serious  brick-making,  and  the 
permanent  extension  of  the  school-building. 

When  the  enlarged  house  was  opened,  it  at  once  proved 
to  be  too  small  for  the  crowds  who  came.  They  packed 
themselves  together  on  the  floor  like  sardines  in  a  box,  and 
poor  mothers,  whose  babies  began  to  cry,  found  themselves 
inextricably  fixed,  much  to  their  alarm,  and  to  the  discom- 
fort of  the  preacher. 

In  1898,  we  arranged  to  hold  our  first  convention,  and  to 
this  all  the  out-schools  were  invited  to  come,  and  to  bring 
with  them  a  thankoffering.  As  great  congregations  were 
expected,  a  square  enclosure  of  grass  was  erected  within 
which  the  people  might  comfortably  gather.  Leafy  sheds 
were  thrown  up  in  the  surrounding  bush  for  the  accom- 
modation of  visitors,  and  the  village  head-men  were  asked 
to  provide  hospitality  for  as  many  as  they  would. 

The  day  before  the  convention  began,  long  Indian  files 
of  white-robed  people  could  be  seen  pouring  down  the 
hill-sides  along  the  native  paths,  from  every  direction.  One 
of  the  first  companies  to  arrive  was  a  party  of  about  seventy 
from  Mperembe's  villages.  They  had  brought  with  them 
a  sheep  and  goat  as  their  chief's  contribution  to  the  collection. 
The  village  head-men  awaited  the  coming  of  the  strangers 
in  the  station  square,  and  led  off  large  detachments  of  them 
to  their  homes,  and  when  the  near  villages  were  crowded 


OUR  FIRST  CONVENTION  93 

with  guests,   the  late-comers  were  accommodated  in  the 
sheds. 

The  convention  lasted  for  five  days,  three  meetings  a  day- 
being  held,  with  congregations  of  about  three  thousand 
in  attendance.  I  shall  not  attempt  a  detailed  description 
of  the  services.  Have  they  not  been  most  vividly  portrayed 
by  Mr.  Henderson  in  Dr.  Elmslie's  book  ?  Suffice  it  to 
say,  that  from  the  beginning  to  the  end,  the  deepest  re- 
ligious feeling  was  present,  and  we  who  had  been  daily  in 
touch  with  the  catechumens  and  Christians,  were  amazed 
at  the  fervour  and  response  which  that  convention  called 
forth. 

Of  course,  so  great  a  crowd,  and  so  much  intensity  of 
feeling  required  to  be  carefully  guided,  lest  physical  emotions 
be  mistaken  for  true  religion,  and  fervour  waste  itself  in 
harmful  or  futile  directions.  One  morning  two  of  the 
leading  teachers  came  to  me  to  relate  strange  experiences 
they  were  having.  They  had  been  out  in  the  bush  at  night 
praying.  They  felt  as  if  their  bodies  had  been  lifted  up 
from  the  earth,  and  bright  angelic  forms  had  come  down  to 
meet  them,  and  they  asked  me  to  explain  what  these  visions 
meant.  Instead  of  doing  so,  I  went  through  to  the  dis- 
pensary, and  getting  two  big  doses  of  salts,  gave  them  each 
a  dose,  and  sent  them  off  to  bed.  Next  day  the  visions  had 
disappeared.  But  the  strong  piety  which  burst  into  bloom 
at  that  convention  remains  with  them  still,  and  in  increasing 
beauty. 

Our  closing  service  on  Sunday  took  a  missionary  form ; 
some  account  was  given  of  the  deplorable  condition  in 
which  we  had  found  the  Senga,  and  an  appeal  was  made 
for  volunteers  to  teach  them.  It  was  immediately  answered. 
One  and  another  rose,  confessing  how  they  had  gone  there 
in  past  years  with  the  war  parties,  but  now  that  better 
things  had  come  to  them,  they  desired  to  return  with  nobler 
intentions  and  make  reparation  by   teaching    the    Gospel 


94  APPLICANTS 

of  Peace.  And  so  we  inaugurated  a  new  series  of  expeditions 
to  Marambo,  which  have  drawn  the  Senga  out  of  their 
stockades,  given  them  security,  and  kindled  a  great  Hght 
which  can  never  be  put  out. 

The  break-up  of  the  convention  and  the  return  home  of 
the  companies  made  a  deep  impression  on  the  land.  The 
great  ant-hills  by  the  paths  were  full  of  people  who  watched 
them  pass  singing  hymns,  their  faces  lit  with  a  new  satis- 
faction. "  Where  has  the  impi  been  ?  "  the  old  men  cried. 
"  What  was  the  indaba  that  drew  such  crowds  ?  "  others 
inquired.  And  the  tribe  awoke  to  know  that  a  new  living 
Power  was  among  them,  changing  the  old  order. 

Now,  there  is  nothing  that  makes  for  efficiency  and  better 
morals  like  spiritual  religion.  One  saw  how  it  made  con- 
sciences more  sensitive,  and  raised  the  tone  of  conduct 
among  the  Christians.  In  the  villages  the  heathen  saw  it 
in  the  tender  solicitude  for  the  sick,  the  care  of  the  widows 
and  aged,  and  the  spirit  of  brotherly  helpfulness  among  the 
Christians.  I  saw  it  in  the  work  of  the  teachers  scattered 
in  distant  schools.  There  was  a  faithfulness  and  energy 
and  influence  not  there  before.  Among  the  workers  there 
awakened  a  conscience  for  honesty  to  which  one  could  appeal. 
And  the  whole  machinery  of  the  mission  began  to  run  with 
a  sweet  smoothness. 

With  what  eagerness  Christians  now  began  to  serve  the 
Kingdom  of  God  !  In  one  village  I  found  the  old  sister  of 
Mombera,  the  only  one  of  that  family  who  entered  the 
Church,  sitting  in  her  hut  in  the  evenings  expounding  the 
Scriptures  to  her  poor  slave  women,  and  this  was  her  nightly 
practice.  Companies  of  stalwart  young  men  walked  miles 
on  Sunday  afternoons  to  distant  villages  to  preach.  And 
wherever  there  was  a  school,  at  sunrise  and  sunset  the 
people  gathered  daily  to  worship. 

We  were  now  overwhelmed  by  the  numbers  of  appli- 
cants for  admission  to  the  catechumen's  class  and  to  the 


WEEDING  OUT  95 

Church.  It  was  no  uncommon  experience  to  find  on  one's 
arrival  at  some  large  school  centre  about  a  hundred  men 
and  women  waiting  for  the  necessary  personal  interview 
with  the  missionary,  that  they  might  publicly  make  pro- 
fession of  their  faith.  Then  one  would  sit  for  hours  on  end, 
day  by  day,  examining  till  one's  head  was  dizzy,  and 
exhaustion  cried  aloud,   protesting. 

Of  course,  a  considerable  weeding  had  to  take  place  before 
the  names  of  those  who  were  examined  were  submitted  to 
the  Church.  In  general  movements  like  this  there  is  always 
a  number  who  simply  follow  the  crowd  with  little  apprecia- 
tion of  the  issues  involved,  and  there  are  others  who  have  not 
yet  the  necessary  knowledge  to  understand  what  they  would 
profess,  and  there  are  others  again,  whose  village  conduct  is 
not  consistent  with  a  Christian  profession.  And  so  we 
sifted  and  sifted  by  conversation,  and  by  public  scrutiny 
of  each  name  before  any  were  received  into  Christian  fellow- 
ship. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  results  of  the  awakening  was 
its  effect  on  the  old  people  who  had  hitherto  been  the 
hardest  to  influence.  Not  very  many  of  the  old  men  of 
authority  have  made  profession  of  Christianity,  but  of  the 
old  women,  a  great  multitude.  I  think  the  Gospel  came 
to  them  with  a  peculiarly  liberating  and  quickening  power. 
Schools  were  opened  for  married  women  in  the  afternoons, 
that,  when  their  day's  work  was  over,  they  might  have  some 
opportunity  of  learning.  Few  of  them  ever  attained  to  the 
stage  of  being  able  to  read,  but  the  daily  lessons  distinctly 
opened  their  intelligences,  and  the  mere  fact  that  they  were 
in  school  with  primers  of  their  own,  and  a  pencil  and  slate 
in  their  hands,  made  them  feel  that  they  were  not  left 
behind  stranded  while  the  young  people  sailed  away  on  the 
flood-tide.  I  know  no  more  pathetic  and  moving  sight  in 
all  the  land  than  these  schools  for  the  old,  where  bent  and 
withered  grandmothers  may  be  seen  peering  through  faded 


96  THE  BEER  HABIT 

eyes  at  their  little  primers  trying  in  the  evening-time  of  their 
lives  to  enter  the  garden  land  of  knowledge,  which  had  till 
then  been  closed  against  them. 

Against  two  firm  habits  of  the  people  the  wave  of  religious 
life  broke  continually,  and  with  some  disintegrating  effect. 
The  first  is  the  beer  habit.     How  productive  of  crime,  how 
demoralizing  to  village  life,  how  clogging  to  all  progress 
this  custom  of  the  people  is  only  those  who  have  passed 
their  years  among  them  can  tell.     One  knows  that  their 
grain  beer  is  a  food,  and  that  chiefs  subsist  on  little  else, 
and  were  it  possible  for  them  to  use  it  in  moderation  one 
would  have  nothing  to  say  against  it.     But  indulgence  is 
more    congenial    to    the    African    than    restraint.     And    I 
have  never  yet  met  the  native  who  could  call   himself  a 
moderate  drinker.     The  great  gourds  in  which  the  beer  is 
served  invite  long  potations.     All  public  events,  funerals, 
dances,  harvestings,  hoeings,  are  carried  through  with  public 
drunken  bouts.     While  beer  is  plentiful,  the  recruiting  of 
labour  is  impossible.     No  attraction  of  money  or  cloth  can 
compete  with  it.     Out  of  these  public  carousals  a  crop  of 
crimes,   homicides,   adulteries,   and   quarrels   invariably   is 
produced.     Mothers  neglect  their  children,  or  let  them  roll 
into  the  fire  at  night  and  get  burned  ;  men  club  one  another 
to  death  ;   quarrels  over  nothing  end  in  such  furious  hatred 
that  villages  are  broken  up  and  scattered.     I  have  arrived 
at  a  garden  where  twoscore  men  and  women  were  hoeing 
for  beer,  and  a  dispute  had  arisen  whose  sound  we  heard  afar 
off.    It  had  grown  so  furious,  that  when  we  appeared  on  the 
scene  the  men  had  laid  aside  their  hoes,  and  were  fighting 
with  spears  and  shields. 

To  cultivate  the  millet  grain  from  which  the  beer  is 
brewed,  the  land  is  rapidly  being  deforested.  The  gardens 
require  the  richest  soil,  heavily  fertilized  with  the  ashes- 
potash  of  burnt  trees.  Two  years'  sowing  leaves  the  ground 
too  poor  for  further  crops,  and  then  a  new  patch  has  to  be 
opened. 


POLYGAMY  97 

Beer,  then,  is  one  of  the  greatest  enemies  to  the  economic 
and  moral  welfare  of  the  land,  and  against  it  the  native 
Church  has  declared  uncompromising  war.  Every 
catechumen  and  Church  member  is  a  total  abstainer.  One 
curious  result  of  this  is  that  the  Christians  instead  of  pro- 
viding beer  for  the  neighbours  who  come  to  hoe  their 
gardens,  provide  a  good  square  meal.  And  to-day  the 
native  can  distinguish  at  once  where  gardens  have  been 
prepared  and  cleaned  by  beer,  and  where  by  food.  Those 
who  hoed  for  beer  wasted  their  day,  and  scamped  their  work, 
so  that  the  maize  is  dwarfed  and  weedy,  compared  with  that 
in  the  gardens  of  the  Christians. 

Polygamy  is  another  habit  with  which  no  compromise 
is  made.  I  know  there  are  people  who  hold  that  polygamy 
is  necessary  for  the  African.  But  they  provide  for  no  rise 
in  his  civilized  status,  and  so  make  no  readjustments. 
I  can  say  with  confidence  from  some  knowledge  of  thousands 
of  Africans,  that  it  is  no  more  necessary  for  the  African  than 
for  the  European,  who  has  any  ideal  of  home.  Polygamy 
is  necessitated  by  two  things.  The  one  is,  the  desire  on  the 
part  of  ambitious  men  for  an  adventitious  respect  and  social 
standing  which  they  think  a  plurality  of  wives  will  give 
them.  The  other  is  lust.  So  long  as  polygamy  exists, 
there  can  be  no  family  life,  and  the  forces  that  bolster 
it  are  un-Christian. 

When  a  man  desires  to  enter  the  Church  he  must  first  put 
away  his  plurality  of  wives,  retaining  only  the  first  he 
married,  and  a  woman  must  come  out  of  a  polygamous 
union.  Scores  of  such  rearrangements  of  social  bonds  are 
made  every  year.  And  village  life  is  so  constituted  that 
no  hardship  is  put  on  the  divorced  woman.  She  either 
returns  to  her  parents  to  live  as  a  widow,  or  if  she  desires  it 
she  marries  another.  In  these  lands  an  unmarried  woman 
is  unknown,  as  also  is  a  bachelor.  "  An  old  maid  is  a 
Christian  institution," 


98  VERACITY  OF  THE  NATIVES 

I  wish  I  could  as  confidently  say  that  native  Christianity 
has  been  uncompromising  towards  the  more  insidious  evils 
of  untruthfulness  and  harshness.  Of  course,  every  one 
acknowledges  that  these  are  opposed  to  the  spirit  of  Christ, 
but  not  every  one  renounces  them.  Untruthfulness  does 
not  appear  so  much  in  deliberate  lying,  as  in  a  partial  state- 
ment of  the  case  which  is  misleading,  or  in  a  denial  of  guilt 
when  a  charge  is  made.  When  cases  are  talked  in  court, 
it  is  a  matter  of  supreme  difficulty  to  arrive  at  the  facts, 
because  each  party  tells  his  story  for  his  own  advantage, 
concealing  or  denying  what  will  hurt  his  case.  And  when 
witnesses  are  called  up,  social  loyalty  is  so  great  that  the 
friends  of  the  culprit  will  confirm  the  one-sided  version 
given  by  their  side  by  a  skilful  concealment  or  partial 
statement,  though  they  may  be  perfectly  conscious  of  his 
guilt.  To  teach  the  Christian  that  he  must  tell  the  whole 
truth  is  a  long  and  hard  task. 

Another  of  the  signs  of  true  religion  which  one  would  like 
to  see  more  evident  is  that  of  kindness.  One  has  to  recognize 
that  much  of  the  social  morality  of  the  tribe  was  bulwarked 
by  customs  that  are  essentially  cruel,  and  it  is  no  suddenly 
accomplished  feat  to  introduce  purer  manners,  gentler  laws, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  save  the  state  from  moral  collapse. 
For  example,  it  has  been  the  old  custom  to  ascribe  difficult 
labour  to  immorality  on  the  part  of  the  unhappy  sufferer, 
who  is  worried  into  confession,  true  or  false,  of  some  mis- 
demeanor, to  avert  the  otherwise  fatal  issue. 

Again  and  again  one  has  had  to  impress  on  the  Christians 
the  horrible  inhumanity  of  such  treatment  of  their  women 
in  the  hour  of  their  darkness.  They  have  protested  that 
the  safeguard  of  this  belief  is  necessary  for  the  protection 
of  family  life.  But  after  making  it  a  matter  for  severe 
Church  censure,  one  is  beginning  to  see  the  custom  dying 
out. 
Yet  if  this  and  some  other  examples  of  heathen  harshness 


CARE  OF  WIDOWS   AND  HELPLESS    99 

still  cling  to  the  Christian,  there  are  other  examples  of 
warm-hearted  care  which  are  delightful  to  see.  One  knows 
of  cases  where  Christian  lads  have  carried  to  hospital  sick  per- 
sons who  had  been  abandoned,  that  they  might  be  cared  for. 
One  of  the  most  popular  funds  of  the  native  Church  is  that 
for  the  care  of  the  widows  and  helpless,  "^o  this  money  is 
given  cheerfully,  and  many  a  miserable  old  sL  ve  woman  has 
had  her  latter  days  brightened  by  the  care  of  the  Church. 
I  came  into  a  little  village  recently  and  found  none  of  the 
Christians  there.  After  pitching  my  tent,  I  waited  till  the 
evening  for  their  appearing,  and  then  they  came  with  their 
evangelist  at  their  head.  They  had  spent  the  whole  day 
hoeing  the  garden  of  an  infirm  old  widow  who  could  not 
help  herself.  And  one  knows  many  cases  like  this,  and  has 
seen  the  strong  young  Christians,  when  a  new  village  was 
being  built,  setting  apart  some  days,  to  build  a  house 
for  some  sick  or  widowed  Christian,  who  had  no  other 
claim  upon  them  than  that  she  could  do  nothing  for  herself. 
There  are  men  whose  whole  thought  for  the  African  is  the 
amount  of  labour  he  can  be  made  to  produce  for  their 
enrichment.  And  in  their  ignorance  they  are  apt  to  cavil 
at  Christian  missions  as  spoiling  the  native  for  work.  Now, 
it  will  be  to  their  comfort  to  know,  if  they  would  believe  me, 
that  there  is  no  force  which  compels  men  to  work  like 
Christianity,  not  even  increased  hut-taxes.  We  have  seen 
again  and  again  how  one  of  the  immediate  effects  of  a  school 
and  of  a  religious  movement  is  to  make  the  people  seek 
better  things  than  daily  intoxication.  A  new  self  -  respect 
makes  them  clothe  themselves  and  their  families,  and  cloth 
will  not  be  found  without  labour.  The  demand  of  the 
school  for  fees  and  books,  the  demands  of  the  Church  for 
liberality,  create  new  necessities  for  wealth.  And  one  has 
seen  districts  where  the  people  used  to  spend  their  day  in  going 
from  one  beer  gathering  to  another,  now  empty  themselves 
by  migrations  to  the  labour  centres,  when  once  the  school 


100        EFFECTS   OF   CHRISTIANITY 

has  become  influential,  and  we  who  seek  for  higher  averages 
of  attendance,  and  who  care  for  the  members  of  the  Church, 
know  how  much  difficulty  the  distance  of  the  labour  markets 
from  Ngoniland  has  introduced  into  our  ministration.  I  can 
say,  confidently,  that  the  wealthiest  and  the  best-dressed, 
and  the  most  reliable  workers  of  the  land,  are  the  lads  who 
have  been  awakened  by  the  work  of  Christian  missions. 
No  missionary  is  so  silly  as  to  encourage  idleness.  And 
I  hope,  too,  that  no  missionary  is  so  blind  to  history  as  to 
believe  that  love  of  industry  can  be  compelled  by  threats 
of  punishment,  by  the  corvie  system,  or  by  increased  tax- 
ation. We  believe  in  a  better  compulsion,  the  creation 
of  a  new  man,  with  desires  to  rise  into  the  likeness  of  Jesus 
Christ. 


CHAPTER   IX 
THE  STORY  OF  A  FILIBUSTER 

WE  enter  now  on  a  somewhat  painful  chapter  in 
the  poHtical  history  of  the  Ngoni,  but  it  is 
well  that  it  should  be  told,  for  it  is  an  illus- 
tration of  what  has  happened  in  many  parts  of  Africa,  and 
of  the  danger  that  may  come  to  a  people  beyond  the  super- 
vision of  European  Governments,  when  missionaries  do 
not  precede  the  advancing  agents  of  a  "  superior  "  civiliza- 
tion. In  1898,  after  one  of  the  early  depressions  which 
periodically  befell  the  townships  in  Southern  Rhodesia,  some 
adventurous  young  men  began  to  arrive  in  North  Ngoniland 
in  the  hope  of  buying  cattle  at  a  cheap  price.  The  first 
comers  were  men  of  good  character,  and  one  admired  the 
pluck  and  endurance  that  had  enabled  them  to  face  and 
complete  the  long  tramp  from  the  south,  on  the  results  of 
which  they  had  staked  the  whole  of  their  little  capital.  They 
came  to  us  direct,  and  asked  for  advice  and  help  in  their 
enterprise,  and  we  were  glad  to  assist  them,  with  the  result 
that  they  were  able  to  purchase,  with  calico  and  blankets, 
herds  of,  perhaps,  two  hundred  cows  at  the  absurdly  low 
rate  of  thirteen  to  fourteen  shillings  a  head.  Unfortunately, 
of  the  first  two,  one  paid  for  his  trip  with  his  life,  and  died 
at  the  Zambesi  on  his  way  back. 

This  money  was  wealth  to  the  Ngoni,  and  as  they  had  no 
other  goods  that  they  might  barter  for  cloth,  they  welcomed 
the  coming  of  these  traders.  When  the  first  adventurers 
returned  south,  with  their  bargains,  numbers  of  others  soon 

101 


102         STORY  OF  A  FILIBUSTER 

followed.  And,  in  consequence,  the  price  of  cattle  quickly 
rose  to  about  thirty  shillings.  When  several  hundred  head 
had  been  purchased,  the  natives  ceased  to  sell,  as  they 
considered  they  had  at  the  time  sufficient  cloth,  and  their 
kraals  were  being  depicted. 

But  the  country  had  now  been  discovered  by  traders,  and 
strangers  from  the  south  were  dropping  in  among  us 
frequently  with  a  view  to  making  a  bargain,  and  their 
presence  was  creating  some  uneasiness,  as  they  were  not 
so  easily  satisfied. 

One  day,  when  I  was  travelling  about  Njuyu,  I  got  a 
message  from  the  paramount  chief  asking  me  to  come  and 
deliver  him  from  the  presence  of  a  white  man  in  his  village 
who  was  causing  the  people  trouble.  I  went  across  to  see 
the  chief,  and  he  told  me  that  a  European  was  living  in 
a  hut  in  his  village,  who  spent  his  day  turning  over  the 
stones  on  the  graves  of  the  dead  and  breaking  them,  and  the 
people  were  much  disturbed  with  this  desecration.  I  then 
called  on  the  European,  and  found  him  sitting  on  a  native 
mat  before  a  miserable  hut  having  a  solitary  game  of  cards. 
We  introduced  ourselves  in  a  friendly  way  and  had  some 
talk.  He  explained  that  he  was  prospecting  for  gold,  and 
had  found  a  very  little  in  a  stream.  I  told  him  about  the 
chief's  complaint,  and  he  laughed,  saying  that  he  did  not 
know  that  these  stone-heaps  were  over  graves,  and  was 
merely  tapping  the  stones  in  his  search  for  gold.  But  when 
he  saw  the  difficulty  he  was  creating,  he  undertook  to  avoid 
the  graves,  and  move  off  to  new  quarters.  I  took  care  to 
make  him  understand  the  character  of  the  people,  and  their 
recent  emergence  from  lawlessness,  and  the  danger  of 
provoking  a  fierce  spirit  which  might  only  be  smouldering. 

Some  weeks  after  a  messenger  came  in  from  Mperembe 
asking  me  to  help  him  to  get  rid  of  two  white  men  who  were 
a  nuisance  to  him  and  persisted  in  remaining  on  at  his 
village.     Such  a  temperate  measure  on  the  part  of  Mperembe 


STORY  OF  A  FILIBUSTER         103 

amazed  me,  for,  but  a  year  before,  we  could  only  approach 
him  by  careful  observance  of  native  courtesies,  and  not 
many  years  before  no  white  man  would  have  dared  to 
impose  himself  on  these  chiefs  without  their  consent.  I  sent 
a  courteous  letter  to  the  two  strangers,  who  turned  out  to 
be  the  gold  prospector  and  his  mate,  asking  them  if  they 
would  mind  going  elsewhere,  as  Mperembe  was  annoyed 
and  one  would  not  care  to  be  responsible  for  what  he  might 
do  if  he  broke  through  his  present  restraint.  I  informed 
them  how  recently  we  had  started  work  there,  and  expressed 
my  conviction  that  they  did  not  wish  to  create  trouble. 
A  polite  reply  was  sent  me,  thanking  me  for  what  I  had 
written,  and  assuring  me  that  they  would  move  away 
immediately. 

This  trouble  was  scarcely  over,  and  the  two  prospectors 
gone  back  to  the  south,  when  more  serious  difficulties  began 
to  appear.  Rumour  after  rumour  reached  me  that  a  white 
man  was  in  the  country  with  an  armed  force  emptying  the 
cattle  kraals,  and  doing  violence  to  the  people.  These 
stories  I  did  not  at  first  credit,  thinking  them  to  be  merely 
excited  exaggerations  ;  but  when  a  letter  came  in  from  my 
teacher,  Daniel  Nhlane,  detailing  the  high-handed  dealings 
of  a  white  man,  whose  boys  were  armed  with  guns,  I  had  to 
take  the  matter  up. 

Let  me  remind  the  reader,  that  at  the  time  I  was  the  only 
European  settled  in  the  country,  that  the  British  Govern- 
ment had  not  yet  begun  to  administer  the  affairs  of  this 
tribe,  and  that  the  nearest  Government  official  was  two  days' 
journey  off,  among  the  Tonga  at  the  Lake  shore. 

Owing  to  my  isolation  and  the  pressure  of  work,  I  was 
not  able  to  start  out  myself  and  cover  the  twenty  miles  that 
lay  between  Ekwendeni  and  the  scene  of  those  alleged 
outrages,  so  I  sent  a  letter  to  Daniel  asking  him  to  go  along 
with  other  teachers  and  see  whether  the  reports  were 
true. 


104         STORY  OF  A  FILIBUSTER 

Two  days  passed,  and  the  answer  to  my  inquiries  came 
in  the  persons  of  four  or  five  young  men  who  arrived  in 
great  excitement  and  exhaustion,  two  of  them  bleeding 
from  bullet  wounds.  They  told  me  how  Daniel,  accom- 
panied by  some  others,  had  gone  to  the  village  where  the 
caravan  of  the  European  was  settled.  They  had  seen  him 
driving  cattle  out  of  a  kraal,  and  had  seen  him  point  a 
revolver  at  the  owner,  on  his  remonstrating,  and  thrash  him 
on  the  back  with  a  whip  of  hippopotamus  hide. 

Daniel  had  thereupon  gone  to  the  European  along  with 
his  friends,  and  taking  off  his  hat  politely,  he  sat  down  to 
talk  with  him.  Now,  Daniel  is  a  chief's  son,  and  a  man  of 
decided  self-respect,  who  in  his  youth  knew  how  to  use  his 
spear  with  effect.  For  many  years  he  has  been  one  of  our 
most  energetic  and  influential  teachers,  but  he  is  not  a  meek 
subdued  youth  of  the  crushed-worm  type,  so  I  have  little 
doubt  that  when  he  spoke  there  were  both  remonstrance 
and  indignation  in  his  tones. 

"  Why  do  you  come  into  our  country,"  he  asked,  "  seizing 
our  cattle  without  paying  for  them  ?  " 

"  Who  sent  you  to  talk  to  me,  you  nigger  ?  "  said  the 
white  man. 

"  My  master  sent  me,"  answered  Daniel.  Here  he  ex- 
ceeded the  fact,  for  I  had  only  asked  him  to  verify  for 
himself  the  rumours  of  violence. 

"  Who  is  your  master  ?  "  asked  the  European. 

"  Mr.  Eraser,"  answered  Daniel. 

"  Well,  go  and  tell  your  master  that  if  he  has  anything 
to  say  he  had  better  come  himself,  and  not  send  niggers  to 
speak  to  me."  And  with  this  he  took  his  whip  and  lashed 
out  at  Daniel.  This  was  more  than  the  others  could  stand, 
and  one  of  them,  a  man  of  somewhat  passionate  spirit,  took 

his  knob-kerry  and  hit  Z on  the  head,  inflicting  a  severe 

wound.     Z promptly   whipped   out   his   revolver   and 

emptied  five  cartridges  among  the  boys.     They  fled.     Then 


STORY  OF  A  FILIBUSTER         105 

the  filibuster  ran  up  an  ant-hill  and  fired  his  repeating-rifle 
again  and  again  at  the  retreating  boys. 

And  so  they  came  into  Ekwendcni  in  headlong  flight,  the 
blood  of  their  wounds  still  on  them. 

Matters  had  now  become  too  serious  for  any  amicable 
negotiations  between  the  missionary  and  the  stranger.  So, 
after  giving  the  fugitives  a  good  meal,  I  wrote  a  note  to 
Mr.  Cardew,  the  magistrate  at  the  Lake,  asking  him  to  come 
up  at  once,  as  serious  developments  would  be  sure  to  take 
place.  I  sent  on  the  boys  with  the  note  with  all  speed,  that 
they  might  tell  their  own  story. 

Next  morning,  a  runner  arrived  from  the  paramount 
chief  requesting  me  to  come  at  once  to  his  assistance,  as  the 
white  man  had  left  in  the  night,  taking  with  him  a  huge 
drove  of  cattle.  I  answered  that  I  could  not  leave 
Ekwendeni,  and  informed  him  that  I  had  called  on  the 
Government  to  interfere. 

Soon  after  another  messenger  from  the  chief  made  his 
appearance  saying  that  the  war  regiments  were  gathering 
to  pursue  the  European.  With  all  haste  I  sent  word  again 
insisting  that  he  should  hold  in  his  regiments,  and  sit 
quiet,  until  the  Government  agent  arrived.  Back  came 
an  answer  that  the  head  men  could  not  be  restrained.  They 
saw  their  cattle  leaving  the  country,  and  demanded  to  be 
allowed  to  follow  and  recover  them.  To  this  I  sent  on  an 
urgent  command  that  he  should  restrain  his  people  lest  more 
serious  damage  might  be  done,  which  would  involve  the 
whole  tribe  in  disaster,  and  I  said  that  if  the  district  magis- 
trate did  not  arrive  in  a  few  hours  I  would  start  with  all 
speed  for  his  village. 

Meanwhile,  by  a  fortunate  coincidence,  Mr.  Murray 
arrived  from  the  Institution,  and  I  was  able  to  leave  him  in 
charge  at  Ekwendeni,  and  almost  at  the  same  time  Dr.  Scott 
came  in  from  Bandawe,  where  he  had  heard  that  there 
was  serious  trouble  on  the  hills.     Knowing  that  I  was  alone. 


106  STORY  OF  A  FILIBUSTER 

in  the  goodness  of  his  heart  he  had  come  on  at  once  to  render 
me  some  help. 

Starting  out  that  night  along  with  Dr.  Scott,  we  pushed 
on  for  the  disturbed  district.  When  the  morning  broke 
we  were  on  its  borders,  and  the  people,  by  some  instinct, 
aware  that  we  were  on  the  path,  came  out  to  urge  us  on, 
and  show  us  their  wrongs.  At  one  point,  an  old  blind 
head  man  was  seated  in  the  bush  waiting  for  us.  He  was 
over  eighty  years  of  age,  and  had  been  carried  there  by  his 
people  that  he  might  pour  out  his  tale  to  me.  He  told  how 
when  the  white  man's  boys  had  entered  his  village,  they  had 
stripped  him  of  his  little  belongings,  whipped  him,  taken 
his  cattle  out  of  the  kraal,  and  raped  the  women  of  the 
village. 

As  we  proceeded  along  the  path  Ngoni  came  out  to  meet 
us,  cursing  the  filibuster,  and  crying  after  us,  "  Kill  him  ! 
kill  him  !  " 

At  length  we  arrived  at  the  paramount  chief's  village,  and 
found  the  great  kraal  packed  with  men,  and  the  chief  sitting 
on  a  leopard  skin  at  the  far  end.  As  soon  as  we  had  sat  down 
and  received  their  greetings  business  began.  Mbalekelwa 
the  chief  called  on  one  head  man  after  another  to  state  their 
experiences.  Crowned  men  rose  and  told  how  this  white 
man  with  a  great  band  of  followers,  all  carrying  guns,  had 
entered  their  villages,  and  selecting  cattle  from  the  kraal, 
had  driven  them  off  after  throwing  down  a  piece  of  cloth 
or  blanket  as  payment.  How  they  had  remonstrated  and 
had  been  threatened  with  a  gun,  or  whipped  with  the 
chikoti  (the  hippopotamus-hide  whip).  Several  showed  the 
long  weals  of  the  whip  on  their  skin.  Women  had  been 
raped.  One  or  two  had  been  shot  dead  in  their  gardens. 
On  the  day  that  the  white  men  fled  with  all  his  cattle,  the 
people  of  Hoho  turned  out  in  war  array  and  followed.  The 
rear  company  of  his  caravan  fled  on  seeing  the  pursuing 
warriors,  and  had  abandoned  their  cattle  and  goods.     Fifty 


STORY  OF  A  FILIBUSTER         107 

head  of  the  deserted  cows  were  driven  back,  and  kept  till 
I  should  come,  and  there  they  were,  every  beast  of  them, 
lowing  outside  the  kraal.  A  number  of  boxes  of  gin  and 
other  belongings  of  the  white  man  which  had  been  thrown 
down  by  his  terrified  carriers,  were  then  produced,  and  I  was 
assured  that  not  a  spoon  or  rag  was  missing,  nor  had  a  man 
been  harmed.  One  could  not  help  wondering  at  the  self- 
control  of  the  people. 

The  great  chief  then  rose  to  a  loud  shout  of  "  Bayete," 
and  throwing  his  toga  with  a  magnificent  sweep  over  his 
shoulders,  and  holding  his  long  staff  in  his  hand,  strode  up 
and  down  making  a  great  harangue.  "  You  have  heard 
what  these  men  have  said,"  he  cried,  "  and  you  have 
forbidden  us  to  follow  this  robber  and  do  him  harm.  We 
have  obeyed  because  you  say  the  word  of  God  forbids  to 
kill.  But  does  the  great  Queen  send  her  people  among  us 
with  guns  to  seize  our  cattle  and  kill  our  people,  and  yet 
forbid  us  to  defend  ourselves  and  our  property  ?  " 

When  he  had  finished  I  rose  and  spoke.  I  told  him  that 
what  the  Queen  most  wished  was  peace  and  justice,  and  this 
man  was  a  criminal  against  her  laws.  I  pointed  out  that 
were  he  to  allow  his  impis  to  attack  the  European,  blood 
would  be  shed,  and  he  and  his  people  would  be  sure  to 
suffer  worse  things,  that  I  was  here  as  a  teacher  of  peace, 
not  as  a  governor,  so  I  had  called  on  the  nearest  Government 
official  to  come  at  once  to  their  protection,  but  that  four 
days  had  passed,  and  no  answer  had  been  received  to  my 
letter.  I  then  told  him,  that  seeing  the  white  man  was 
rapidly  pushing  beyond  their  bounds,  and  the  bounds  of 
the  Protectorate,  I  would  go  with  them  and  follow  him 
that  we  might  call  him  back  to  speak  the  indaba.  But 
three  pledges  must  first  be  given,  viz.  that  I  was  to  be  sole 
leader  of  the  expedition,  that  no  one  who  went  with  us  was 
to  touch  beer  lest  passions  would  be  inflamed,  and  that  no 
one  was  to  have  any  dealings  with  the  white  man  but  myself. 


108  STORY  OF  A  FILIBUSTER 

To  this  they  roared  their  consent,  and  then  the  indunas 
burst  into  the  circle  and  began  to  execute  wild  war-dances 
which  sent  the  dust  flying.  Wc  agreed  that  we  should 
start  next  morning  early. 

That  night  a  runner  came  in  to  camp  from  Mr.  Cardew 
to  say  that  he  was  on  his  way,  having  been  detained  by 
heavy  rains,  and  now  his  machila  had  broken  down  some 
miles  from  where  we  were.  We  sent  off  another  machila 
to  him,  and  a  team  of  fresh  carriers,  and  he  was  soon  among 
us.  This  was  a  mighty  relief,  for  we  now  told  him  what 
we  knew,  and  gladly  threw  the  whole  responsibility  on  his 
shoulders. 

In  the  morning  the  inipis  began  to  appear.  They  came 
over  the  rolling  hills  in  solid  phalanx,  some  men  with  heads 
dressed  with  cock-feathers,  and  all  carrying  their  shields  and 
spears  and  clubs.  As  each  company  of  about  two  hundred 
men  approached  the  kraal  they  raised  their  clubs  in  the  air, 
and  whistling  all  together  came  rushing  over  the  veldt  with 
a  light  dancing  tread.  Entering  the  great  kraal  they  formed 
up  again,  saluted  the  chief,  and  after  a  war-dance,  took  their 
places  in  the  wide  circle  that  was  forming. 

I  asked  the  chief  to  let  Mr.  Cardew  know  his  grievances, 
and  told  him  I  handed  over  the  whole  affair  to  the  Govern- 
ment officer.  When  the  dastardly  tale  had  once  more  been 
related,  Mr.  Cardew  denounced  the  dealings  of  the  white 
man,  and  offered  to  follow  him  at  once,  if  they  would  add 
to  his  little  company  of  police  a  hundred  of  their  picked 
responsible  warriors,  and  one  or  two  indunas.  These  were 
quickly  forthcoming,  and  after  we  saw  the  pursuit  start  off 
to  the  south,  we  returned  to  Ekwendeni. 

A  week  afterwards,  Mr.  Cardew  returned.    Z had  had 

too  long  a  start,  and  was  already  some  days'  journey  beyond 
Ngoniland.  But  what  Mr.  Cardew  had  seen  had  convinced 
him  of  the  quiet  and  peaceable  condition  of  the  country, 
and  of  the  great  wrong  that  had  been  done  by  the  filibuster. 


STORY  OF  A  FILIBUSTER  109 

This  was  a  matter  of  some  consequence  to  me,  for  Z , 


making  straight  for  Fort  Alston,  had  arrived  there  with  his 
head  bound  up,  and  showing  the  serious  wound  he  had 
received,  had  reported  that  Ngoniland  was  in  a  state  of 
war,  and  that  1  had  dispatched  an  impi  after  him  which  had 
seized  a  quantity  of  his  cattle,  while  he  had  been  attacked 
and  barely  escaped  with  his  life.  The  collector  accepted 
his  story,  and  a  demand  for  my  arrest  had  been  sent  to 
Zomba,  and  for  strong  measures  to  be  taken  to  pacify  Ngoni- 
land. Mr.  Cardew  having  seen  with  his  own  eyes  the  real 
condition  of  affairs,  thought  my  arrest  was  a  little  unneces- 
sary, and  sent  a  full  report  of  what  he  had  learned  to  Zomba. 

Z was  found  at  Fort  Jameson,  and  he  turned  out  to 

be  an  agent  of  a  prospecting  company  in  Rhodesia.  He 
was  immediately  summoned  to  appear  at  Ekwendeni  and 
stand  his  trial  before  the  Deputy  Commissioner.     The  trial 

took  place  on  May  25th,  1899,  and  Z duly  appeared 

accompanied  by  another  white  man  who  had  come  as  a 
witness  for  the  defendant.  The  charges  preferred  against 
him  included  stealing  of  cattle,  assaulting  natives,  threaten- 
ing with  fire-arms,  carrying  on  operations  of  war,  and 
travelling  with  guns  and  ammunition.  Practically  no 
defence  was  made,  but  the  accused  pleaded  ignorance  of  the 
law,  and  ignorance  of  the  doings  of  his  carriers,  and  some 
provocation.  His  witness  turned  out  to  be  my  friend  the 
gold  prospector,  an  American,  who  stood  up  to  prove  that 
he  had  found  the  country  in  a  most  unsettled  condition,  and 
had  been  most  harshly  treated  by  me  and  the  natives.  In 
evidence  of  this  a  letter  was  produced  in  court  written  by 
his  mate,  who  was  an  American  doctor,  certifying  that  when 

T had  returned  from  Ngoniland  he  had  been  so  evilly 

treated  that  he  was  suffering  severely  from  "  pediculosis." 
The  Commissioner's  eyebrows  w'ent  up.  What  dreadful 
disease  was  this  ?  And  a  curious  grin  appeared  on  the  faces 
of  those  who  understood. 


110         STORY  OF  A  FILIBUSTER 

There  was  no  doubt  about  the  proof.  Not  only  was  he 
found  guilty  on  each  count,  but  it  was  also  shown  that  he 
had  seized  some  forty  old  guns  in  native  villages  and  dis- 
tributed them  among  his  followers,  whom  he  drilled  as 
soldiers.  "  We  had  no  powder  for  the  guns,"  he  pleaded. 
But  the  Commissioner  pointed  out  that  to  march  through 
a  village  with  forty  unloaded  guns  would  just  as  effectually 
terrorize  the  people  as  if  each  carrier  had  a  keg  of  powder 
on  his  back  as  well  as  his  gun  on  his  shoulder.  Evidence 
was  also  given  of  numerous  cases  of  rape  by  his  men,  and  of 
shooting  at  and  killing  two  men,  and  wounding  an  old 
woman. 

Unfortunately,  not  one-tenth  of  the  people  whose  cattle 
had  been  taken  were  summoned  to  the  trial,  and  so  evidence 
was  only  led  to  prove  the  stealing  of  cattle  from  the  three  or 
four  head  men  who  had  been  summoned. 

The  Deputy  Commissioner  in  the  summing-up  spoke  very 
plain  words  to  the  accused,  finding  him  guilty  on  every 
count  but  the  one  which  charged  him  with  firing  at  and 
wounding  certain  boys.  This  was  eliminated,  as  he  felt 
there  had  been  provocation.  I  was  censured  for  having 
sent  a  native  teacher  to  speak  to  the  white  man,  which, 
by  the  way,  I  had  not  done  ;  but  the  judge  felt  he  must  hold 
the  balances  of  justice  blindfold,  and  not  allow  all  the 
blame  to  be  put  on  one  side. 

The  upshot  was  that  this  filibuster  who  had  caused  the 
death  of  two  men,  the  wounding  of  several,  the  raping  of 
many  women,  who  had  stolen  many  scores  of  cattle  without 
payment,  taken  many  scores  of  others  by  force  after  a 
nominal  payment,  had  assaulted  head  men,  and  brought  the 
country  to  the  brink  of  war,  was  fined  £50,  or  six  months' 
imprisonment  with  hard  labour,  had  to  pay  thirty  shillings 
compensation  to  the  nearest  relative  of  those  who  had  been 
killed,  and  to  restore  the  stolen  cattle  which  had  been 
claimed  in  court.     The  fine  was  at  once  paid.     The  boxes 


STORY  OF  A  FILIBUSTER  111 

of  gin  and  other  items  and  all  the  seized  cattle  were 
returned  to  him  except  those  few  which  were  claimed  by 
the  witnesses  in  court,  and  so  he  went  forth,  having  made 
a  magnificent  profit  of  his  raid. 

As  he  left  the  court  he  was  overheard  saying  to  his  friend 
the  prospector,  "  These  missionaries  are  ruining  the 
country."     And  the  prospector,  with  an  oath,  agreed. 

Z was  not  expelled  the  country.     He  passed  back  to 

Fort  Jameson  with  his  recovered  treasure.  And  a  year  or 
two  after  was  imprisoned  again  by  the  Rhodesian  Govern- 
ment for  filibustering  on  a  considerable  scale  in  their 
territory. 

One  effect  of  this  trial  was  that  the  purchase  and  exporta- 
tion of  cattle  from  northern  Ngoniland  without  a  special 
licence  from  Government  headquarters  was  forbidden,  and 
so  the  temptation  to  exploit  this  unadministered  territory 
was  removed. 


PART  II.  THE  TUMBUKA 

CHAPTER  X 

HISTORY  OF  THE  TUMBUKA 

DURING  the  early  years  of  our  mission  work,  the 
tribe  was  rightly  called  the  Ngoni,  for  the  invaders 
pervaded  the  whole  atmosphere  of  the  composite 
people  whom  they  ruled.  But,  gradually,  as  their  power 
decreased  with  the  suppression  of  the  war  spirit,  and  the 
growing  intelligence  of  the  serfs,  their  language  and  customs 
began  to  be  less  predominant,  and  the  common  vernacular 
of  the  young  people  especially  became  more  and  more 
distinctly  Tumbuka.  With  the  coming  of  the  administra- 
tion the  few  remnants  of  the  power  and  prestige  of  the  Ngoni 
began  rapidly  to  diminish.  Then  there  came  a  long  succes- 
sion of  deaths  in  the  course  of  three  or  four  years,  by  which 
every  one  of  the  old  chiefs,  with  a  fighting  history  and  an 
almost  sacred  authority,  disappeared,  and  their  place  and 
authority  have  never  been  given  to  any  of  their  successors. 
We  missionaries  ceased  using  the  Ngoni  language  as  the 
medium  for  our  preaching,  when  we  found  that  great  parts 
of  our  audiences  were  becoming  unfamiliar  with  it,  and  we 
began  to  speak  and  teach  in  Tumbuka,  a  proceeding  which 
soon  brought  us  into  closer  touch  with  the  serfs  who  were 
the  autochthones  of  this  land,  and  at  present  compose  the 
greater  part  of  the  population. 

During  the  past  years  their  history  and  customs,  which 
had  been  overshadowed  by  the  martial  history  and  prouder 

113 


THE  TUMBUKA  PEOPLE  113 

customs  of  the  Ngoni,  gradually  have  been  coming  to  light ; 
and  while  most  of  what  one  has  to  record  about  them  has 
more  an  antiquarian  than  a  present-day  interest,  there  still 
remains  a  certain  understrain  of  the  past  in  their  habits  of 
thought  and  general  outlook.  Since  the  Ngoni  predomin- 
ance has  been  disappearing,  there  has  also  been  a  consider- 
able resuscitation  of  the  old  customs  and  worship  among 
these  Tumbuka. 

I  have,  therefore,  in  the  following  chapters  tried  to  give 
a  little  of  what  we  have  learned  concerning  the  history  and 
practices  of  this  submerged  tribe. 

The  past  of  the  Tumbuka  people  is  hid  in  the  mists  of 
prehistoric  times,  and,  so  far,  we  have  not  yet  been  able  to 
discern  it  in  much  detail.  It  seems  as  if  no  one  in  the  tribe 
is  able  to  go  back  more  than  three  generations  and  describe 
even  inaccurately  the  condition  of  the  people.  Had  they 
possessed  a  definite  tribal  organization  within  that  period 
and  done  deeds  worthy  of  tradition,  records  would  possibly 
have  been  preserved.  The  Ngoni  can  trace  their  movements 
well  back  to  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century,  but 
among  them  also  history  only  begins  with  the  appearance 
of  their  tribal  organization. 

Unfortunately,  disintegration  had  set  in  among  the 
Tumbuka  more  than  a  hundred  years  ago,  and  in  the 
generation  of  the  grandfather  of  the  oldest  living  man 
there  was  no  centralizing  power  around  which  tradition 
might  gather.  But  that  they  must  have  been  a  great  tribe 
once,  with  some  rallying  centre,  is  evident  from  their  wide 
distribution  and  from  the  customs  common  to  them  which 
are  very  clearly  distinguishable  from  those  which  obtain 
among  other  Central  African  tribes.  For  example,  girls  were 
not  married  until  they  were  past  puberty,  whereas  in  most  of 
the  tribes  in  these  regions  child-marriage  was  common. 
Sons  inherited  from  their  fathers,  whereas  in  other  tribes 
the  line  of  succession  is  by  nephew,  that  is,  sister's  son. 


114  THE  CHEWA  PEOPLE 

Few  dances  have  a  Tumbuka  origin,  and  those  that  have  are 
nearly  all  unobjectionable,  while  most  of  the  other  tribal 
dances  are  deplorably  evil.  Yet,  that  the  tribe  came 
originally  from  the  same  stock  as  nearly  all  Nyasaland 
peoples,  is  evident  from  the  close  similarity  of  their  language, 
and  from  the  common  tradition  that  makes  them  all  emerge 
from  the  north,  and  pass  through  a  great  gorge  through 
which  the  Rukuru  flows. 

Their  wide  distribution  is  evident  from  a  study  of  the 
maps  of  explorers.  When  La9erda,  at  the  end  of  the 
eighteenth  century  passed  on  his  journey  north  to  Kazembe's 
he  marked  the  Tumbuka  as  living  in  the  Loangwa  Valley. 
Livingstone  found  that  all  the  villagers  whom  he  questioned 
around  Kasungu  were  Tumbuka,  and  in  his  map  he  calls 
the  land  from  the  Bua  to  the  Dwangwa,  Tumbuka  country. 
We  also  find  to-day  traces  of  their  presence  all  over  the 
country  which  is  now  called  north  Ngoniland,  or  Mombera's. 
Thus  last  century  the  Tumbuka  tribe  was  distributed  from 
latitude  14°  south  to  11°,  and  between  longitudes  32°  and 
34°,  an  area  of  about  20,000  square  miles.  My  impression 
is  that  these  data  of  distribution  given  by  the  earlier 
explorers  are  true,  and  that  although  only  a  small  part  of 
this  great  territory  can  be  called  Tumbuka  land  to-day,  they 
were  the  autochthones  of  that  whole  country  a  century 
ago. 

In  the  south  they  are  now  called  Chewa,  that  seems  due 
to  the  fact  that  north  of  the  Bua  there  came  a  hundred 
years  ago  an  incursion  of  Nyanja  s]oeaking  tribes  from  the 
south  who  entered  into  and  settled  among  the  Tumbuka  in 
overwhelming  numbers.  They  amalgamated  with  the  Tum- 
buka, and  the  language  spoken  changed  slightly  to  that  of 
the  closely  allied  tongue  of  the  invaders.  When  Livingstone 
passed  that  way  the  amalgamation  was  not  yet  complete, 
and  although  some  villages  still  speak  Tumbuka  as  far  south 
as  the  head  waters  of  the  Bua,  almost  all  the  others  have 


A  TUMBUKA  TUMULUS  115 

adopted   the  dialect  and   tribal   marks   of  that  composite 
people  who  are  now  called  Chewa. 

About  the  same  time  that  this  southern  incursion  seized 
these  lands,  there  occurred  an  invasion  of  Biza  fugitives  from 
the  north-west,  fleeing  before  the  cruel  wars  of  the  Bemba 
kingdom  of  Kazembe.  I  have  already  in  Chapter  VII 
written  of  this  invasion  which  changed  the  tribal  name  for 
the  people  of  the  Loangwa  Valley  to  Senga.  After  over- 
whelming the  feeble  Tumbuka  population,  it  jDressed  back 
some  fugitives  to  the  foot-hills  lying  between  the  Ngoni 
plateau  and  the  Loangwa  plain.  A  few  Tumbuka  head  men, 
however,  saved  themselves  by  acknowledging  the  new  Biza 
chiefs,  and  to-day  their  villages  are  still  to  be  found  as 
distinct  little  communities,  settled  under  the  recognized 
Senga  chiefs.  The  new-comers  were  far  from  warlike,  and 
were  only  desirous  of  peace  and  safety  from  the  troublesome 
war  parties  of  the  Bemba.  They  did  not  molest  the  sur- 
rounding peoples  after  they  had  settled  themselves  into  the 
Marambo  plain,  hence  considerable  Tumbuka  communities 
remained  in  the  valleys  of  the  foot-hills,  until  they  were 
driven  out  by  the  Ngoni.  One  of  the  paths  that  lead  to  the 
Loangwa  plain  to-day  passes  by  an  ancient  heap  of  stones 
which  stands  alone  in  a  great  reach  of  uninhabited  and  poor 
stone  land.  Here  is  buried  one  of  these  Tumbuka  chieflets 
whose  villages  lay  in  the  valley  below.  He  became  possessed 
of  an  evil  spirit,  went  forth  dancing  in  the  night-time  alone 
and  naked,  and  drew  on  himself  the  suspicion  of  being  a 
sorcerer.  His  people  made  him  go  through  the  poison  ordeal, 
and  as  he  was  unable  to  vomit  the  poison,  he  was  pro- 
nounced guilty  of  the  charge,  was  stoned  to  death  on  this 
hill-top,  and  his  body  burned,  and  over  him  a  heap  of  stones 
was  thrown,  and  to  this  day  all  who  pass  that  way  place  a 
stone  on  the  mound  lest  their  feet  swell.  And  so  the  pile 
has  grown  through  the  past  two  generations  until  it  is  now 
of  great  size,  though  the  travellers  who  pass  are  very  few. 


116      USURP AIFON  OF  KAMPUNGU 

This  ghastly  monument  is  the  only  visible  sign  so  far  as  the 
eye  can  reach  of  the  presence  of  the  little  communities  that 
once  lived  in  these  unattractive  valleys. 

Many  of  them  were  iron  workers,  and  they  drove  a  thriving 
trade  in  hoes  and  axes  with  the  Senga  and  Biza  traders, 
who  exchanged  strong  woven  cloths  from  their  own  looms, 
and  poison  for  arrows,  for  such  iron  implements  as  the 
Tumbuka  smiths  could  give  them. 

A  generation  after  the  first  Biza  incursion,  perhaps  about 
the  early  half  of  the  nineteenth  century,  a  notable  incursion 
by  another  band  of  fugitives  took  place  in  the  north.  These 
were  led  by  Kampungu  (afterwards  called  Chikurmayembe 
the  First).  His  party  came  across  the  Lake  in  canoes  from 
Mpoto,  where  there  has  been  a  considerable  Arab-slaving 
centre  for  some  time  back.  Kampungu  did  not  belong  to 
any  known  Central  African  tribe,  and  he  is  described  as  a 
light-skinned  man,  accompanied  by  a  band  of  dark  men  none 
of  whom  had  wives.  They  are  said  to  have  been  driven 
out  of  Mpoto  by  war.  It  is  scarcely  possible  that  he  was  an 
Arab,  while  his  followers  were  coast  men,  for  they  evidently 
were  not  Mohammedans.  They  came  ostensibly  to  buy 
ivory,  and  settled  down  among  the  Kamanga  people  near 
Njakwa  Mountain.  Kampungu  found  here  great  stores  of 
ivory,  and  opened  up  a  lucrative  trade.  He  married 
daughters  of  the  local  chiefs,  and  seized  their  little  kingdom, 
making  them  his  head  men. 

He  seems  to  have  gone  mad  shortly  after,  and  commenced 
a  series  of  bloody  reprisals  on  his  own  relatives,  and  the 
people  whom  he  ruled,  in  consequence  of  which  great  parties 
of  the  Kamanga  tribe  fled  south,  driving  the  Tumbuka 
before  them,  and  taking  possession  of  their  villages  and 
gardens.  These  Tumbuka  fled  back  to  the  Loangwa  Valley 
and  built  among  the  Senga  in  the  old  land  of  their  forefathers, 
others  went  south  to  Kasungu,  and  as  far  as  the  Bua,  where 
they  settled  among  their  fellow-tribesmen.    But,  though  the 


INCURSION  OF  NGONI  117 

Tumbuka  who  fled  to  Marambo  adopted  the  Senga  tribal 
marks,  many  of  them  returned  in  the  next  generation  to 
their  own  land  to  be  under  the  protection  of  the  Ngoni,  and 
to-day  one  may  find  in  Ngoniland  many  of  these  old  people, 
with  all  the  outward  signs  of  being  Senga,  who  still  remain 
emphatically  Tumbuka. 

Kampungu  was  not  allowed  to  continue  for  long  his  havoc 
among  his  own  people,  for  his  uncle  Bwati,  accompanied  by 
further  bands  of  people  from  Mpoto,  crossed  over  and  arrived 
in  Kamanga  country.  Finding  that  all  that  his  nephew  had 
gained  was  being  lost  by  his  madness,  Bwati  made  war  on 
him,  and  drove  him  and  another  uncle  into  a  hut.  They 
surrounded  the  house  with  thorns  and  burnt  the  two  of  them 
alive,  and  then  took  possession  of  the  new  kingdom.  Bwati 
must  have  been  a  man  of  considerable  wisdom,  for  during 
his  lifetime  he  succeeded  in  bringing  all  the  Kamanga, 
Henga,  and  the  northern  section  of  the  Tumbuka  into 
allegiance  to  him  without  much  fighting.  When  he  died  he 
was  succeeded  by  his  son  Pitamkusa  (Chikuramayembe  the 
Third)  who  further  consolidated  the  kingdom,  and  con- 
tinued to  attract  a  considerable  commerce  in  ivory.  With 
the  peace  which  these  two  chiefs  inaugurated  the  fugitive 
Kamanga  returned  to  their  own  land,  and  left  the  Tumbuka 
country  to  stragglers  who  ventured  to  return.  The 
Chikuramayembes  seem  to  have  adopted  the  language  and 
worship  of  their  new  people,  and  to  have  settled  large 
numbers  of  their  relatives  as  chiefs  of  the  little  Tumbuka 
and  Henga  clans.  They  were  in  a  fair  way  to  establish 
again  a  great  tribe  who  acknowledged  them  as  head  when, 
just  after  the  death  of  Pitankusa,  the  Ngoni  horde  arrived 
on  the  scene.  They  camped  near  the  capital  of  this  chief, 
and  swooping  down  on  it  entirely  destroyed  it,  and  drove 
the  children  of  Chikuramayembe  into  exile.  Two  of  these 
sons,  Mjuma  and  Mwendera,  many  years  afterwards  rebelled, 
and  tried  again  to  gather  their  people  about  them,  but  the 


118         A  DISINTEGRATED  TRIBE 

Ngoni  attacked  and  killed  them,  and  finally  blotted  out  this 
new  dynasty.     This  took  place  about  thirty  years  ago. 

Apart  from  this  little  history,  the  tradition  of  the  Tumbuka 
and  allied  peoples  is  inarticulate.  The  tribe  had  broken 
into  a  vast  number  of  little  clans  which  owed  no  allegiance 
to  one  another,  and  have  no  history  of  deeds  worthy  of 
record.  Many  of  these  clans  again  had  split  into  numerous 
sections,  villages  becoming  scattered,  and  the  people  owning 
allegiance  to  no  chief,  till  a  great  portion  of  the  tribe  lived 
in  hamlets  no  larger  than  were  necessary  for  the  accom- 
modation of  a  man's  family,  and  when  he  was  monogamous 
his  village  consisted  of  one  house  built  on  an  ant-hill. 

Quarrels  could  no  longer  be  adjusted,  and  the  whole  tribe, 
utterly  disintegrated,  was  in  a  continual  state  of  unrest. 
When  a  man  had  a  quarrel  with  his  neighbour  there  was  no 
court  of  appeal,  all  he  could  do  was  to  lie  in  wait  in  the  path 
and  shoot  his  unsuspecting  enemy  with  a  poisoned  arrow, 
and  so  settle  his  grievance.  Life  became  very  cheap.  Men 
were  known  to  kill  their  neighbours  for  no  other  reason  than 
to  get  possession  of  some  mushrooms  which  the  other  might 
be  carrying.  One  clan  which  lived  on  the  Vipya  became  so 
riven  that  no  two  houses  were  built  together.  If  a  man  had 
two  wives  the  houses  were  placed  several  hundred  yards 
apart,  and  no  path  of  communication  was  tramped  between 
them  or  between  the  huts  of  neighbouring  friends.  When 
friends  visited  one  another  they  leaped  from  one  tuft  of 
grass  to  another,  lest  by  wearing  out  a  regular  path  they 
should  discover  their  houses  to  enemies. 

During  this  period  of  tribal  dissolution  many  of  the  arts 
and  social  customs  of  the  people  seem  to  have  been  forgotten. 
Over  a  wide  tract  of  Tumbuka  land  the  ruins  of  old  smelting 
furnaces  were  standing,  but  the  art  of  smelting  had  been 
forgotten.  Internal  discord  had  made  the  necessary  com- 
bination for  the  production  of  iron  impossible. 

When  the  Ngoni,  under  Zongwendaba,  passed  through 


A  REORGANIZED   TRIBE  119 

the  country  on  their  march  north,  seventy  years  ago,  this 
was  the  state  of  demorahzation  in  which  they  found  a  great 
part  of  the  Tumbuka,  and  possibly  the  difficulty  of  attacking 
and  absorbing  such  small  communities,  accounts  for  the  little 
havoc  they  did  to  the  tribe.  But  their  passage  revealed 
to  the  local  people  the  necessity  of  combination,  and  in 
the  presence  of  a  common  danger  the  petty  quarrels  were 
forgotten,  and  the  natives  gathered  together  in  consider- 
able villages,  round  which  they  built  strong  palisades.  The 
scattered  hamlets  of  the  high  savannahs  withdrew  to  the 
thickets,  which  are  formed  on  some  of  the  hill-tops  by  a  clump 
of  aged  trees  that  have  resisted  the  bitter  blasts  that  blow 
over  those  wide  open  parks.  Within  the  dark  clusters  of 
creeping  plants  that  cling  about  those  trees  and  flourish  in 
the  cold  wetting  mists  they  erected  their  little  hovels,  where 
none  could  see  them.  Chiefs  were  reappointed,  social 
loyalty  was  again  observed,  and  many  of  the  old  customs 
were  revived.  And  when  the  Ngoni  horde  returned  under 
Mombera  twenty  years  later  they  found  the  people  under 
a  better  organization,  but  presenting  at  the  same  time  more 
profitable  plunder  to  the  irresistible  warriors. 

If  the  history  of  the  Ngoni  illustrates  the  manner  in 
which  kingdoms  have  sprung  up  in  Africa,  the  history  of  the 
Tumbuka  illustrates  that  disintegration  that  sets  in  when 
the  central  authority  has  disappeared,  and  the  way  in  which 
peoples  have  been  lost  to  history,  or  swallowed  up  in  some 
stronger  power  that  has  invaded  them. 

But  who  the  Tumbuka  were,  whence  they  came,  how  they 
became  a  nation,  and  what  was  the  cause  of  the  beginning 
of  their  dissolution — these  things  still  remain  a  mystery. 


CHAPTER   XI 

RELIGION  OF  THE  TUMBUKA 

WHEN  one  starts  out  to  systematize  the  faith  of 
the  Tumbuka,  one  is  confronted  by  the  fact 
that  they  themselves  are  scarcely  conscious  of 
any  religious  belief.  But  after  patient  investigation  their 
atmosphere  is  found  to  be  charged  with  religion,  and 
although  few  can  define  and  distinguish  what  they  worship, 
their  lives  are  surrounded  by  spiritual  powers  which  they 
acknowledge,  and  which  play  a  great  part  in  their  common 
life. 

They  believe  in  God,  but  this  is  one  of  the  least  influential 
articles  of  their  faith,  for  God  is  to  them  an  absentee  deity. 
He  is  called  Chiwuta,  which  might  mean  the  great  bow,  but 
apparently  does  not,  at  least,  no  native  will  agree  that  the 
name  has  any  relation  to  the  bow  of  the  firmament,  or  of 
the  Avenger,  or  any  other  kind  of  bow.  What  the  root  of 
the  word  is,  no  one  seems  yet  to  have  discovered.  Chiwuta  is 
known  as  the  creator,  and  the  master  of  life  and  death.  By 
Him  the  world  was  made,  and  everything  that  has  life.  It  is 
He  who  sends  the  great  diseases,  like  rinderpest,  and  small- 
pox, and  He  too  is  the  sender  of  death.  The  only  character- 
istic of  God  that  the  raw  native  is  sure  of  is  this,  "  He  is 
cruel,  for  it  is  He  who  takes  away  the  children,"  but  where 
He  lives,  and  what  He  thinks  they  do  not  know.  To  the 
general  imagination.  He  has  withdrawn  from  the  world, 
and  has  nothing  to  do  with  it,  beyond  sending  death  or 
disease. 

130 


SUB-GODS  121 

I  do  not  think  that  I  have  yet  found  that  prayers  were 
addressed  to  the  Creator  God,  though  they  were  frequently 
offered  to  the  local  deities,  who  also,  when  they  were  not 
named  by  their  personal  titles,  were  called  Chiwuta.  The  i 
Creator  was  too  unknown  and  too  great  for  the  common 
affairs  of  men. 

Throughout  these  Nyasa  tribes  there  are  also  local  sub- 
gods  who  dwell  on  mist-crowned  hills,  and  have  special 
control  of  the  rains  and  other  natural  forces.  The  God  of 
the  people  on  the  Tumbuka  and  Henga  plateau  was  called 
Chikang'ombe,  and  he  abode  on  a  high  hill,  Njakwa,  below 
which  the  Rukuru  rushed  in  tumbling  cataracts  through  a 
narrow  gorge.  The  people  on  the  Loangwa  plain  worshipped 
Zambwe,  to  the  south  Mangazi  was  the  tribal  deity.  The 
place  where  each  one  of  these  sub-gods  lived  was  a  great 
mountain-top,  from  which  the  rains  seemed  to  come,  and 
around  which  white  mists  continually  hung. 

Chikang'ombe  is  no  longer  worshipped.  When  he  failed 
to  protect  the  people  from  the  Ngoni  invasion,  he  was 
repudiated,  and  his  worship  gradually  ceased.  But  in  the 
days  of  his  power  he  was  a  male  god,  whereas  Mangazi  and 
Zambwe  were  both  female,  and  the  wives  of  Chikang'ombe — 
a  fact  that  seems  to  prove  that  the  Tumbuka  once  occupied 
this  whole  land,  from  Mount  Dedza  to  Zambwe.  Some 
people  claim  to  have  seen  Chikang'ombe.  His  body  was 
like  that  of  a  great  snake,  but  he  had  a  mane  like  a 
lion.  AVhen  the  wind  blew  strong  from  the  north,  Chika- 
ng'ombe was  on  his  way  to  visit  his  wife  Mangazi,  and  the 
course  of  his  journey  could  be  traced  by  the  stalks  of  maize 
that  were  broken  down  in  his  progress.  When  the  wind 
blew  from  the  south  he  was  returning,  or  his  wife  was  on 
her  way  to  visit  him. 

Chikang'ombe  was  not  worshipped  independently  by 
individuals.  He  was  a  tribal  god,  and  when  he  was 
approached  the  chief  came  along  with  his  people,  and  chose 


122  SACRED  PLACES 

one  to  lead  the  worship.  While  he  prayed  the  assembled 
tribesmen  sat  silently  listening  with  bowed  heads,  and  in 
their  name  he  made  offering  of  cattle  or  beads  or  garden 
produce.  Now  and  then  a  girl  was  dedicated  to  him  to  be 
his  wife.  After  her  dedication  she  lived  apart,  and  was 
greatly  honoured.  She  dressed  her  hair  with  beads  to 
resemble  the  mane  of  the  god,  and  she  remained  throughout 
her  life  unmarried.  In  her  the  god  was  incarnated.  Some- 
times a  boy  was  dedicated  to  Mangazi  and  there  are  said  to 
be  alive  more  than  one  man  and  woman  who  were  so  given 
over  to  Chikang'ombe  and  Mangazi ;  but  I  have  not  seen 
them,  and  their  location  seems  to  be  very  elusive.  Their 
lives,  however,  at  Port  Herald  on  the  Shire,  a  well-known 
woman  Mbona,  in  whom  the  local  god  is  supposed  to  dwell, 
and  around  whom  an  extraordinary  amount  of  superstitious 
dread  still  clings,  for  there  Christian  missions  have  made 
almost  no  progress.  One  of  the  women  reported  to  be  still 
alive,  who  was  dedicated  to  Chikang'ombe,  is  called  Nya- 
Mboni  (Mrs.  Mboni).  Mboni  is  a  string  of  beads  such  as  was 
offered  in  sacrifice.  She  is  said  to  live  apart  in  a  house  away 
from  all  villages,  and  to  be  much  consulted  as  his  oracle, 
by  those  who  still  believe  in  the  power  of  Chikang'ombe. 
His  visits  used  to  be  paid  in  the  evening  when  the  wind  blew 
hard.  Then  she  would  sweep  out  her  house,  and  carry  forth 
the  ashes  from  the  fireplace,  and  quench  her  fire  by  pouring 
earth  over  it.  All  night  she  would  sit  still  with  trembling, 
for  the  god  was  with  her,  and  had  come  to  see  how  she  was 
conducting  herself.  In  the  morning  he  would  go  forth,  and 
leave  her. 

Besides  these  great  sub-gods,  many  of  the  mighty  natural 
objects  were  worshipped,  such  as  conspicuous  hills,  wild 
waterfalls,  great  trees,  deep  pools.  They  were  not  reverenced 
as  the  dwelling-place  of  some  deity  or  spirits,  but  as  them- 
selves animate  and  divine.  Thus  two  hills  in  the  Rukuru 
gorge  are  often  worshipped.     Passers  in  the  gorge  declare 


SACRED  TREES  123 

that  they  can  sometimes  hear  the  cocks  belonging  to  the 
hills  crow,  and  when  the  sound  of  the  tumbling  water  echoes 
between  the  mountain-sides  they  say  the  hills  are  at  war 
with  one  another,  and  they  travel  on  in  haste  and 
terror. 

Certain  large  pools,  too,  were  worshipped,  and  sometimes 
a  wandering  native  would  see  a  fabulous  snake  with  a  red 
head  enter  one  of  the  sacred  pools,  and  this  he  believed  was 
the  pool-god,  and  at  once  he  would  call  his  fellow-villagers 
to  make  sacrifice  there.  In  these  waters  no  one  would  dare 
to  bathe.  When  the  people  passed  near  one  of  these  sacred 
places  they  went  quietly  and  in  fear.  Should  one  of  them 
in  his  terror  find  that  his  feet  were  perspiring  he  threw 
himself  down  on  his  face  at  once.  This  was  the  sure  sign 
that  his  sins  were  discovered,  and  he  confessed  aloud,  and 
offered  his  propitiatory  gifts  of  beads  or  food,  throwing  them 
into  the  water.  If  two  had  been  quarrelling,  they  would 
not  venture  to  pass  until  they  had  effected  a  reconcilia- 
tion. 

There  still  stand  throughout  the  land  great  giants  of 
the  forest  that  have  been  sacred  from  time  immemorial. 
\f  They  were  living  things  and  were  worshipped,  accordingly. 
When  decayed  branches  fell  no  one  would  venture  to  pick 
them  up.  There  are  bare  stretches  of  land  on  which  nothing 
but  stunted  bush  grows,  and  over  which  the  women  labor- 
iously search  for  firewood,  yet  in  the  midst  of  this  scrub 
such  a  giant  tree  may  be  seen,  with  quantities  of  dead  wood 
lying  around,  which  no  one  is  so  sacrilegious  as  to  gather. 
These  trees  were  holy  places,  and  hence  became  the  haunts 
of  some  of  the  ancestral  spirits  ;  and  so  underneath  their 
shade  little  temples  to  the  departed  spirits  would  be  built, 
where  offerings  might  be  placed.  But  these  temples  were 
not  for  the  tree-spirit,  they  were  for  the  ancestors  who  chose 
that  sacred  ground  for  their  abode.  Worship  of  the  hills 
and  trees,  like  that  of  the  sub-gods,  was  not  an  independent 


124  DREAMS 

action  of  the  individual,  but  the  united  invocation  of  the 
clan  or  tribe. 

The  most  active  spiritual  agents  are  the  ancestral  spirits. 
They  are  everywhere,  and  continuously  intervening  for  good 
or  evil,  though  their  influence  is  limited  to  the  affairs  of  their 
relatives.  The  spirit  of  a  man  is  supposed  to  manifest 
itself  in  his  shadow,  and  when  a  man  is  dying  the  shadow 
grows  less,  until  at  death  it  entirely  disappears.  The  spirit 
is  quite  distinct  from  the  body,  and  frequently  goes  on 
excursions  on  its  own  behalf.  When  a  man  lies  asleep  and 
dreams,  his  spirit  has  gone  upon  a  journey,  and  the  dreams 
are  the  events  that  meet  it,  perhaps  it  goes  and  has  converse 
with  the  dead,  or  with  those  who  are  far  away,  and  should 
it  not  return  in  time  the  man  will  be  found  dead.  You 
shout  to  the  sleeper  to  waken  him,  and  it  is  by  the  ear  the 
soul  returns  to  the  body.  These  dreams  are  very  real  events 
to  the  natives,  and  what  is  seen  in  them  is  held  to  be 
fact. 

One  time  when  I  was  many  days  from  home,  my  table 
boy,  who  is  an  intelligent  Christian,  came  to  me  in  the 
morning  in  great  distress  and  said  he  must  go  home  at  once. 
I  asked  his  reason  for  this,  and  he  answered  that  his  child 
was  lying  very  ill  at  home.  This  surprised  me,  and  I 
inquired  whether  he  had  received  this  intelligence  by 
messenger.  "  No,"  he  said,  "  but  I  dreamed  last  night  that 
he  was  dying."  It  took  a  great  deal  of  persuasion  to  induce 
him  to  continue  with  us  on  our  journey  and  pay  no  attention 
to  the  dream,  and  when  some  weeks  after  we  arrived  home 
he  was  greatly  surprised  to  find  that  there  had  been  nothing 
the  matter  with  his  child. 

Should  a  man  dream  that  he  met  with  one  of  his  dead 
relatives,  in  the  morning  he  would  go  at  once  to  the 
little  temple  he  had  built  for  him  and  make  some  offering 
of  foodstuff. 

What  a  young  person  saw  in  his  sleep  he  was  not  allowed 


Baobab  Tree 

These  trees  are  supposed  to  grow  to  a  great  age.  I'hey 
have  little  foliaa:e,  but  they  bear  a  fruit  which  gives  a 
pleasant  acid  drink  to  the  thirsty  traveller. 


At  Ekwendeni 

This  holiday  party  of  ladies  and  children  is  a  good  evidence  of  the  quiet  peace  oi 
Ngoniland  to-day.     A  baby  is  sitting  in  a  inachila,  the  common  carriage  of  the  land. 


SECOND  SIGHT  125 

to  tell  to  the  older  people.  Should  he  do  so  he  would  be 
violently  scolded  and  beaten,  for  the  old  people  feared  some 
dangerous  omen  of  approaching  death.  But  when  the  elders 
dreamed  they  could  tell  the  story  of  their  experiences  to  all 
alike.  Before  men  started  out  for  a  long  journey  they  eagerly 
sought  to  have  pleasant  dreams.  If  they  were  of  maize 
it  was  a  good  omen,  but  should  they  be  of  a  funeral  they 
knew  that  death  awaited  them.  There  were  certain  people 
who  were  famous  for  their  power  of  foretelling  the  future, 
and  of  discovering  lost  articles  through  their  dreams.  One 
old  man,  now  dead,  was  much  honoured  for  this  power. 
When  a  villager  had  lost  his  hoe,  or  spear,  or  some  other 
article,  though  it  might  be  years  before,  this  old  man  could 
dream  about  the  missing  possessions,  and  in  the  morning 
he  would  call  the  owner  and  go  with  him  to  the  place  where 
his  property  was  lying.  On  the  day  of  his  death,  he  called 
his  fellow-villagers  to  his  hut,  and  said,  "  Good-bye.  To-day 
I  shall  die.  You  are  going  to  your  gardens,  but  when  you 
return  you  will  not  find  me,  for  I  shall  have  gone."  And  it 
was  so.  There  were  certain  simple  rules  for  interpreting 
dreams.  Thus,  if  a  man  saw  a  pit  or  hole  in  the  earth,  the 
meaning  was  that  death  was  coming.  Maize  foretold  health 
and  life,  a  river  signified  that  death  was  near,  for  its  waters 
were  the  tears  of  the  mourners. 

Many  of  the  natives  are  credited  with  powers  of  second 
sight.  Two  of  our  leading  evangelists  can  tell  remarkable 
stories  of  things  they  have  seen  in  daylight  with  their  eyes 
open,  and  after  events  proved  that  these  things  actually 
happened  at  some  distant  place  at  that  same  time.  There 
are  men  who  have  seen  their  friends  die  in  some  far  country, 
others  who  have  seen  an  approaching  war  party,  and  others 
who  have  seen  where  game  were  feeding,  and  when  they  led 
out  the  hunters,  found  them  just  as  the  vision  had  declared. 

One  cannot  say  that  the  Tumbuka  believed  in  immortality, 
for  the  spirits  faded  into  oblivion  after  a  few  generations, 


126    THE  LAND  OF  THE  DEAD 

but  they  did  believe  that  after  the  body  died  the  spirit  Uved 
on.  The  spirits  are  supposed  to  live  "  below,"  in  a  great 
valley  where  everything  is  good.  I  have  heard  of  one  man 
who  had  himself  seen  the  abode  of  the  spirits.  He  was 
supposed  to  have  died,  and  his  body  was  tied  up  in  a  mat 
and  prepared  for  burial,  but,  to  the  surprise  of  the  mourners, 
signs  of  returning  life  were  seen.  On  his  recovery  he  told 
how  he  had  gone  by  a  narrow  road  until  he  came  to  a  great 
village  where  the  people  lived  without  marriage.  He  had 
spoken  to  them,  but  none  would  hold  conversation  with 
him.  They  told  him  to  begone,  for  he  was  not  wanted 
there.  He  tried  to  tell  his  fellow-villagers  this  wonderful 
story,  but  no  one  would  listen  to  him.  They  beat  irons 
together  and  tried  to  drown  his  words,  for  he  was  too 
uncanny. 

The  land  of  the  dead  is  a  good  land  where  no  hunger  or 
sorrow  touches  them.  But  they  live  as  young  men  and 
women,  and  grind  their  heavenly  corn,  and  dance  together 
and  have  beautiful  domestic  fowls.  Sometimes  in  the  quiet 
of  the  night  a  sound  will  be  heard  in  the  wood  like  the  beating 
of  a  distant  drum,  and  the  people  say,  "  The  spirits  are 
dancing  in  their  village." 

When  men  who  have  lived  selfish  and  cruel  lives  die, 
their  spirits  get  a  poor  welcome  in  this  nether  world.  The 
others  meet  them  with  scorn,  slap  them  on  their  faces,  and 
dance  about  them  in  derision.  But  beyond  this  lack  of 
welcome  I  have  never  heard  of  any  belief  in  rewards  or 
punishments  in  the  hereafter  life. 

The  movements  of  the  dead  are  not  circumscribed.  They 
wander  over  the  world,  wherever  their  relatives  go,  helping 
or  hindering  them.  When  a  man  is  walking  through  the 
wood,  he  may  hear  a  twig  snap,  and  concludes  that  some 
ancestral  spirit  (chibanda)  is  there,  so  he  breaks  another 
twig  and  throws  it  in  the  direction  of  the  sound,  and  when 
he  gets  home  puts  some  offering  in  the  little  temple. 


SNAKES  AND   SPIRITS  127 

The  spirits  live  in  many  creatures,  especially  in  snakes. 
There  are  two  little  harmless  ones  which  they  particularly 
frequent  :  the  blind  worm,  and  a  snake  with  a  saw-like 
backbone.  Should  natives  meet  one  of  these  on  the  path, 
they  turn  home,  and  the  journey  is  not  resumed,  but  a 
"  doctor  "  is  called  to  tell  what  ancestral  spirit  this  was  that 
had  warned  the  traveller  of  danger  ahead  and  oblations  are 
made.  If  a  native  meets  a  puff-adder  in  the  scrub,  he  does 
not  kill  it,  but  returns  to  worship  some  spirit  that  inhabited 
the  adder.  And  when  one  of  the  little  snakes  enters  a  hut 
it  is  not  driven  forth,  for  it  is  a  spirit  come  to  live  w  ith  the 
friends,  and  its  intentions  are  good. 

The  spirits  of  chiefs  and  other  great  people  were  believed 
to  have  a  special  affinity  to  lions,  and  to  send  them  to  devour 
people  when  they  were  hungry,  or  to  stand  about  the  terrified 
native  to  defend  him  when  they  are  benevolent.  Should  a 
man  suddenly  find  himself  face  to  face  with  this  most  terrible 
of  enemies,  he  cries  at  once  to  his  ancestral  spirits  beginning 
at  the  earliest  until  he  comes  to  the  latest  departed  one. 
"  Oh,  grandfather,  save  me  ;  oh,  grandmother,  save  me  ; 
oh,  brother,  save  me,"  he  cries,  until  he  has  completed  the 
list ;  and  should  he  find  himself  unattacked  and  unhurt  he 
returns  to  offer  grateful  sacrifices  for  his  preservation. 

Before  starting  out  on  a  long  journey  the  traveller  called 
the  witch-doctor  to  help  him  with  his  worship,  and  tell  him 
what  spirit  must  be  propitiated,  and  if  the  issue  w'as  pros- 
perous, a  goodly  part  of  his  gains  were  consecrated  to  the 
friendly  spirit. 

But  the  spirits  were  not  always  so  good-natured.  It  was 
they  who  sent  all  calamities,  and  when  sickness  could  not  be 
expelled,  great  efforts  were  made  by  the  specialists  to  find 
out  which  ancestral  spirit  was  offended,  and  was  punishing 
its  victim,  and  offerings  were  made  of  beer,  or  meal,  or 
cloth. 

When  good  luck  came,  they  said,  "  I  have  a  beneficent 


128  OFFERINGS  TO   SPIRITS 

spirit."  When  evil  luck  came,  they  said,  "  I  have  an 
unfriendly  spirit,"  and  they  sought  to  appease  it.  The 
spirits  are  everywhere.  It  is  dangerous  to  eat  in  the  dark 
lest  a  spirit  put  his  hand  into  the  plate  and  eat  with  you. 
In  the  night-time  ghostly  visitants  slap  poor  sleepers  on 
the  face,  and  they  rise  and  cry,  "  I  have  sinned.  A  chibanda 
has  punished  me  for  my  sin,"  and  they  make  sacrifices. 

In  the  villages,  and  especially  beneath  the  msoro  tree, 
the  people  built  diminutive  huts,  about  eight  inches  in 
circumference  and  eighteen  inches  high.  Sometimes  these 
temples  were  much  larger,  and  so  valuable  an  offering  as 
a  tusk  of  ivory  might  be  placed  in  them,  and  it  was  not 
taken  out  to  be  sold  until  it  was  replaced  by  another. 
Offerings  of  beer  or  meal  were  also  put  in  them :  should  the 
rats  or  cockroaches  partake  of  the  food,  the  people  said, 
"  The  spirits  have  accepted  our  offering  and  are  appeased." 
Though  no  watch  is  set  upon  these  gifts  to  the  spirits,  no 
hungry  man  will  dare  to  steal  them,  for  it  is  a  most  dangerous 
offence  to  cheat  the  shades  of  the  dead.  Beneath  the  msoro 
or  the  wild  fig-tree,  was  the  usual  place  for  these  little 
temples.  One  can  imagine  a  simple  reason  for  the  reverence 
of  the  fig-tree,  but  it  is  a  little  hard  to  discover  why  the 
msoro  tree  is  the  peculiarly  sacred  tree  of  the  Nyasaland 
people.  It  has  no  edible  fruit,  and  is  usually  scarcely  bigger 
than  a  well-developed  bush.  But  around  it  there  are  many 
legends.  The  lion  is  supposed  to  hide  the  tail  and  ears  of 
the  animals  it  kills  under  the  msoro  tree,  so  that  it  may 
creep  up  to  its  victims  unobserved.  Some  say  that  in  doing 
this  the  lion  is  worshipping  his  own  chibanda,  who  resides 
beneath  the  tree,  but  apart  from  this  instance  I  have  found 
no  belief  that  animals  also  have  souls.  The  leopard,  too, 
is  said  to  hide  the  meat  it  reserves  in  the  branches  of  the 
msoro,  and  an  intelligent  youth  has  told  me  that  he  himself 
dug  up  from  the  foot  of  a  msoro  tree  the  tail  of  a  dog  which 
a  leopard  had  killed  the  previous  night  near  his  village,  and 


OFFERINGS  TO   SPIRITS  129 

that  the  tail  had  been  buried  there  by  the  leopard.  Some 
of  the  old  men  declare  that  the  lion  has  taught  them  to 
reverence  this  tree.  When  a  man  would  build  a  temple  to 
his  ancestor  he  first  consults  a  "  doctor,"  who  points  out  the 
particular  msoro  where  the  temple  must  be  built. 


CHAPTER   XII 

TUMBUKA  NATURAL  SCIENCE 

THERE  is  a  curious  resemblance  between  the 
Tumbuka's  idea  of  the  universe  and  that  of  the 
ancient  Semites.  The  world  appears  to  them  to 
be  flat  and  circular,  and  to  float  on  a  great  sea.  Over  it  is 
the  firmament,  a  hard  stony  vault  which  holds  up  the 
waters  that  are  above  the  sky.  The  stars  are  the  "  eyes  " 
of  this  vault  through  which  the  water  filters  when  the  rain 
comes.  The  firmament  is  upheld  by  great  pillars  that  God 
erected  where  the  sky  meets  the  earth,  and  on  these  pillars 
there  are  stationed  certain  very  old  people  whose  continual 
duty  it  is  to  drive  away  the  little  birds  that  come  to  pick  at 
the  props  of  the  sky,  and  at  the  sun  when  it  passes  down 
into  the  west.  Should  they  neglect  their  work  the  sky  will 
fall,  and  universal  destruction  will  follow.  Sometimes  the 
old  people  are  not  watchful  enough,  and  the  little  birds  peck 
at  the  glowing  sun,  and  then  we  see  those  rolling  white 
mists  that  come  over  the  hills  in  the  evening  when  the  sun 
has  gone  down,  and  in  the  morning  when  the  sun  is  rising. 
They  are  the  dust  of  the  sun  that  has  been  pecked  at  by  the 
little  birds. 

Clouds  are  the  smoke  of  the  innumerable  village  fires  that 
are  kindled  throughout  the  world,  and  they  come  up  big  and 
heavy  at  the  end  of  the  hot  dry  season,  for  it  is  then  that 
*:he  great  grass  fires  are  in  full  progress.  As  the  smoke  rises 
it  gathers  about  the  sky-roof,  forming  into  heavy  masses, 
Tv^hich  collect  the  rain  that  filters  through  the  little  star  eyes. 

130 


THE  SUN,  MOON,  AND  STARS     131 

The  sun  rises  out  of  water  in  the  east,  and  sinks  again 
in  the  west,  passing  overhead  above  the  sky  during  the  night 
to  its  proper  rising-place.  The  moon  is  a  polygamous  male. 
He  has  two  wives,  the  evening  and  the  morning  stars,  who 
are  called  Nyavipyenga  (Mrs.  Cooked)  and  Nyazuwulani 
(Mrs.  Uncooked).  When  the  moon  comes  to  the  house  of 
Nyavipyenga,  the  evening  star,  he  is  thin  and  hungry,  but 
she  will  not  feed  him  for  she  is  not  ready  yet.  Her  rule  is 
that  his  food  must  be  properly  cooked.  But  when  he  comes 
to  the  house  of  Nyazuwulani  he  is  fat  and  flourishing,  for 
she  brings  forth  abundance  for  him  to  eat,  though  the  time 
for  cooking  is  not  yet  come.  The  moon  has  most  marked 
influence  on  the  weather.  If  the  rains  break  while  the  moon 
is  still  sharp  and  thin  in  the  east,  the  people  do  not  go  out 
to  plant,  for  they  say  it  is  an  erratic  rain  which  will  not  be 
followed  by  regular  showers,  but  the  tree  caterpillars  come 
forth  in  abundance,  and  the  folks  leave  their  villages  and  go 
to  the  woods  to  gather  this  luscious  relish.  But  should  the 
rain  come  when  the  moon  has  drunk  water,  that  is,  when 
it  rises  at  night  out  of  the  east,  all  other  occupations  are 
suspended,  and  the  whole  tribe  sallies  joyfully  forth  to  the 
gardens  to  plant  their  maize.  The  phases  of  the  moon  are 
watched  with  eagerness,  for  they  indicate  the  change  in 
the  weather.  The  beginning  of  the  first  and  third  quarter 
are  the  particular  phases  that  mean  a  change  from  the 
temporary  drought  to  good  rains. 

An  eclipse  of  the  moon  or  of  the  sun  indicates  that  a 
terrible  battle  is  taking  place  between  these  redoubtable 
warriors.  As  soon  as  the  blackening  edge  is  seen  to  come 
over  the  moon  the  villagers  turn  out  of  their  huts  and  begin 
a  dreadful  clamour.  Drums  are  beaten,  horns  and  pipes  are 
blown,  men  and  women  together  strike  their  pounding 
pestles  noisily  in  the  large  wooden  mortars  which  have  no 
food  within  to  deaden  the  sound,  and  men  grind  axes  on 
stones»  and  do  not  cease  until  the  moon  shines  out  again 


182  LIGHTNING 

with  its  wonted  brightness.  All  this  is  done  lest  the  fight 
between  the  two  great  warriors  end  in  the  death  of  the 
world's  inhabitants. 

The  rainbow  is  a  column  of  smoke  which  rises  out  of  one 
of  those  deep  holes  that  one  sees  often  in  the  ant-hills.  It  is 
the  breath  of  some  mysterious  creature  that  lives  within. 
But  it  is  also  called  the  Lightning's  Bow. 

As  I  have  already  remarked,  lightning  is  conceived  of  as 
a  black  bird  like  a  cock.  It  kills  people  with  its  fiery  breath, 
and  marks  them  with  its  claAvs.  The  shining  of  the  lightning 
is  caused  by  its  descent,  and  the  thunder  is  the  noise  of  its 
wings  as  it  ascends.  Its  favourite  place  of  descent  is  among 
the  bamboos,  and  natives  place  tall  bamboo  poles  in  front 
of  the  door  of  their  huts  that  this  deadly  bird  may  descend 
without  harming  the  helpless  inhabitants.  When  people 
are  killed,  as  happens  every  year,  a  "  doctor  "  is  called,  and 
after  sacrifice,  he  washes  all  the  villagers  with  some  medicine 
of  which  he  has  the  secret,  and  all  the  fires  are  taken  from 
the  houses,  and  thrown  down  at  the  cross-roads.  Then  the 
doctor  kindles  new  fire  by  friction  and  lights  again  the 
village  hearths. 

When  the  dread  rumblings  of  an  earthquake  are  heard  in 
the  daytime  or  in  the  night,  everyone  is  roused  and,  rushing 
out  of  the  huts,  begins  to  call :  "  He  !  He  !  He  ! "  The  same  cry 
as  rises  involuntarily  when  a  man  thinks  himself  to  be  pos- 
sessed by  a  spirit.  They  think  the  earthquake  has  come  to  take 
away  some  of  their  chiefs,  and  they  salute  the  mighty  force. 
But  if  tremor  succeeds  tremor,  and  all  the  salutations  have 
no  effect,  terror  seizes  the  chiefs,  and  they  send  for  the 
nearest  expert,  that  he  may  tell  them  why  these  earthquakes 
come  so  often,  and  what  propitiation  it  is  necessary  for  them 
to  make. 

The  year  is  divided  into  five  seasons.  It  begins  with 
Chifuku,  the  time  of  the  opening  rains  at  the  end  of  No- 
vember.   Four  months  after,  when  the  fresh  maize  begins  to 


THE  RAINS  133 

be  eaten,  the  Masika  season  commences,  and  two  months 
after  it  is  followed  by  Vuna,  the  harvesting-time.  This  lasts 
two  months  (July  and  August),  and  then  comes  Chisaru,  the 
hot  season,  succeeded  by  the  Luwondwe  season,  when  the 
fresh  leaves  come  upon  the  trees  in  brilliant  colours  like  the 
autumnal  tints  at  home. 

The  rains  are  distinguished  by  several  names.  The  first 
showers  are  called  Chizima  malupya,  for  they  follow  on  the 
grass  fires,  and  the  burnings  in  the  gardens,  and  extinguish 
them,  driving  the  black  ashes  into  the  earth.  A  month  after 
this  first  refreshing  shower  comes  Kwambuka,  that  is  the 
"  beginning  "  of  the  rainy  season.  Towards  the  close  of  the 
season  when  only  gentle  showers  have  been  falling  there 
comes  one  day  of  drenching  rain  which  is  called  Kukura 
nyuni,  for  it  tears  the  seeds  out  of  the  spear-head  grass. 

There  are  also  distinguishing  names  for  the  various  types 
of  showers  which  fall  throughout  the  rainy  season.  Some 
of  them  are  called  according  to  the  direction  from  which 
they  come,  and  the  main  points  of  the  compass  are  designated 
by  some  known  country  that  lies  in  that  direction.  The 
north-west,  from  which  the  best  rains  come,  is  Zamhwe,  a 
sacred  hill  where  one  of  the  sub-gods  lives.  The  north-east 
is  Mpoto,  a  district  on  the  other  side  of  Lake  Nyasa.  The 
south-east  is  Mwera,  the  east  Mtonga,  each  one  of  these 
being  lands  which  lie  in  that  direction. 

The  heavy  thunder  showers  are  called  Mpanga  ;  the  long 
wetting  rains  which  last  for  hours  and  days  without  stopping, 
and  come  in  February,  are  called  Mswera,  because  they 
stop  all  work  and  travel  ;  the  white  mists  that  roll  about 
the  highlands  are  called  Nya-tutwe  from  their  whiteness. 


CHAPTER   XIII 
HUNTING 

IN  the  days  when  the  Tumbuka  were  thinly  scattered 
over  an  immense  area,  all  kinds  of  game  abounded, 
but  the  coming  of  more  people  with  the  invasion  of 
the  Ngoni  drove  the  large  antelope  and  elephants  from  some 
of  their  haunts,  and  when  rinderpest  swept  over  the  lands 
the  woods  and  open  glades  seemed  to  have  been  almost 
denuded  of  the  larger  fauna.  To  some  places  elephants  have 
never  returned,  but  in  others  there  is  now  a  considerable 
increase  of  many  species  of  big  game,  and  in  the  Loangwa 
Valley  there  are  large  tracts  that  are  again  a  sportsman's 
paradise. 

The  days  when  Tumbuka  custom  and  habits  were 
stereotyped  were  long  before  the  coming  of  rinderpest,  or 
the  introduction  of  Arab  traders  of  old  muzzle-loading  guns 
which  led  to  the  rapid  destruction  of  game.  Hence,  in  the 
folklore  and  traditions  of  the  people,  hunting  occupies  a  very 
important  place,  and  old  men  speak  of  an  age  that  is 
past  when  meat  was  abundant,  and  every  village  regularly 
dieted  on  it. 

Yet  the  Tumbuka  had  great  odds  to  contend  against,  for 
they  were  poorly  equipped  with  hunting  instruments.  For 
the  smaller  animals  they  laid  ingenious  little  spring  traps  on 
the  game  runs  and  human  paths.  They  also  made  strong 
nets  of  bark  twine,  which  they  stretched  out  among  the 
trees,  and  into  which  they  drove  the  little  buck.    In  places 

134 


POISONED  ARROWS  185 

frequented  by  large  antelope  they  built  a  very  long  rough 
fence,  putting  much  magical  medicine  on  the  stakes.  At 
intervals  openings  were  left  in  this  fence  and  then  deep 
narrowing  pits  were  dug.  Near  the  bottom  of  the  pits 
where  the  sides  began  to  come  together,  sharpened  stakes 
were  fixed,  and  the  top  of  the  pit  was  covered  with  light 
twigs  and  a  layer  of  grass.  Sometimes  a  considerable  haul 
of  game  was  got  from  these  traps,  and  too  often  an  unwary 
traveller  stepped  into  them  and  met  his  death,  being  impaled 
on  the  stakes. 

Bows  and  arrows  were  the  usual  hunting  weapons.  The 
arrows  are  very  light,  slightly  feathered  at  the  butt,  and 
with  a  pronged  iron  head.  By  themselves  they  would  be 
almost  useless  in  hunting  buffalo  and  eland  and  other  big 
antelopes.  But  a  deadly  poison  was  plastered  about  the 
head,  which  quickly  killed  the  wounded  beast.  This  poison 
was  sold  to  the  Tumbuka  by  Biza  traders  who  came  from  the 
Mchinga  plateau.  Stalks  of  it  were  sewn  together  like  a  mat, 
and  two  mats  were  bought  for  a  small  elephant  tusk.  When 
a  buck  was  killed  with  a  poisoned  arrow,  the  flesh  about  the 
wound  was  cut  off  and  was  not  eaten.  But  if  some  hungry 
person  did  partake  of  the  poisoned  flesh  I  do  not  know  that 
any  more  evil  effect  followed  than  that  he  felt  a  most  bitter 
taste  in  his  mouth. 

The  great  ceremonial  hunting  took  place  when  elephants 
were  sought.  The  chief  hunters  were  famous  men,  and  had 
each  his  own  hunting-ground,  into  which  no  others  could 
trespass.  They  possessed  certain  occult  powers  which  were 
necessary  for  killing  an  elephant. 

When  a  hunt  was  decided  on  the  expert  called  together 
his  band  of  men,  and  inoculated  them  with  his  secret 
medicine,  and  gave  them  also  something  to  drink.  A  fire 
was  kindled,  and  after  certain  roots  were  thrown  on  it  the 
weapons  of  all  the  hunters  were  held  over  the  smoke  till 
they  had  drunk  it  in  and  were  blackened.    This  was  done 


186  A  HUNTING  CEREMONY 

that    the  wounded  animals    might    be    powerless  to  run 
away. 

When  all  the  preparations  for  the  expedition  were  made, 
and  sacrifice  had  been  offered  to  the  spirits  of  the  dead,  the 
chief  hunter  charged  the  villagers  who  remained  that  there 
must  be  no  quarrelling,  or  immorality  indulged  in  within 
the  village.  None  were  to  leave  their  homes  to  visit  other 
places,  but  all  were  to  remain  quiet  and  law-abiding  lest  the 
game  disappear,  or  turn  in  anger  and  rend  the  hunters. 
As  he  left  the  village  he  blew  a  loud  blast  on  a  little  horn  he 
carried,  and  shouted  back  to  the  people,  "  Let  those  who 
have  gone  before,  go  in  peace  ;  but  let  him  that  utters 
my  name  die."  The  curse  was  to  prevent  any  talk  about 
the  projected  hunt  lest  the  game  hear  about  it  and  hide 
away. 

When  the  expedition  had  arrived  at  the  hunting-ground 
and  had  built  their  sleeping  shelters,  the  expert  blew  again 
upon  his  horn,  and  said,  "  Let  him  that  seeks  me,  go  far 
away."  This  was  meant  for  lions  and  such-like  dangerous 
enemies.  Then  he  stuck  a  number  of  little  horns,  with 
magic  medicine  in  them,  into  the  ground  about  the  sheds, 
and  all  around  his  own  sleeping-place,  telling  the  men 
that  no  wild  beast  could  cross  these  horns.  Indeed, 
so  strong  was  their  faith  in  the  protective  power  of  this 
magic,  that  frequently  the  men  slept  without  sheds  or 
fire. 

Throughout  these  days  of  travel  and  sport  the  chief  hunter 
lived  alone,  slept  and  ate  by  himself,  and  was  held  in  great 
reverence.  Those  who  accompanied  him  had  to  guard  most 
carefully  their  moral  conduct,  and  husbands  had  no  inter- 
course with  their  wives. 

When  the  elephants  were  sighted,  a  convenient  tree  was 
chosen,  and  into  this  the  expert  mounted,  taking  with  him 
one  or  two  very  heavy  spears.  These  were  the  only  spears 
of  the  tribe.    They  had  a  broad  and  very  sharp  iron  head. 


ELEPHANT  HUNTING  137 

which  was  fixed  to  a  long  heavy  stick.  The  men  now 
scattered  themselves,  and  began  to  drive  the  elephants 
towards  the  tree  with  the  noise  of  drums  and  shouting. 
This  was  a  work  of  immense  danger,  and  frequently  some  of 
them  were  killed  by  the  enraged  beasts.  The  hunter 
remained  alone  on  the  branches  of  the  tree,  and  when  an 
elephant  passed  below  he  drove  his  spear  with  great  force 
and  precision  into  its  back  behind  the  shoulder.  Should  the 
animal  fall  there  the  hunter  was  in  considerable  danger,  for 
the  other  elephants  might  come  up  and  tear  the  tree  to 
pieces,  and  a  fearful  death  would  follow.  So  there  was  much 
rejoicing  when  the  wounded  beast  moved  off,  and  chose  to 
die  at  some  little  distance  and  alone. 

When  the  elephant  was  dead,  the  hunter  was  placed  on 
its  body,  and  was  washed  with  medicine.  Then  an  ear  was 
cut  off,  and  they  went  with  it  to  the  nearest  msoro  tree,  and 
offered  it  in  worship  to  some  ancestral  spirit.  The  other  ear 
and  certain  tit-bits  were  next  cut,  and  were  given  to  the 
hunter,  being  placed  in  the  great  basket  in  which  his 
medicines  and  utensils  were  carried.  The  tusks  were  next 
cut  out,  one  becoming  the  property  of  the  hunter,  and  the 
other  of  his  men. 

Now  news  was  sent  to  the  village  to  call  out  the  people 
to  bring  home  the  vast  treasure  of  meat.  When  it  was  all 
brought  in,  beer  was  prepared  to  drink  with  the  meat,  and 
great  pots  were  set  on  the  fire  to  boil  the  flesh.  Next  morning 
the  beer  and  the  meat  would  be  ready.  But  before  they 
partook  of  it,  a  log  of  a  certain  medicinal  tree  was  drawn  to 
the  village,  cut  up  and  pounded,  and  then  set  on  the  fire. 
The  hunters  stood  over  the  fire  and  inhaled  the  smoke,  that 
they  might  increase  their  skill  in  the  hunt.  Then  with  much 
dancing  the  feast  began,  continuing  as  long  as  men  and 
women  were  able  to  eat  and  drink,  and  being  resumed 
when  sleep  and  more  violent  dance  had  made  room  for 
more. 


138  ELEPHANT  HUNTING 

Meanwhile,  the  hunter  sat  alone  on  a  mat  like  a  great 
chief,  and  his  men  when  they  came  near  bowed  their  heads 
to  the  ground,  and  rolled  on  their  backs,  calling  him  a 
lion,  and  saying,  "  We  are  under  the  authority  of  the 
lion." 


CHAPTER   XIV 

DISEASES 

A  LTHOUGH  the  adults  of  the  race  are  on  the  whole 
/\  a  healthy-looking  people,  one  must  not  generalize 
"*  "^  and  say  that  sickness  is  comparatively  uncommon 
among  these  Central  Africans.  It  is  only  the  more  physically 
fit  who  survive.  The  weakly  succumb  before  the  numerous 
enemies  of  life,  through  their  complete  ignorance  of  saving 
precautions.  And,  indeed,  our  intimate  acquaintance  with 
the  survivors  dispels  a  great  number  of  common  illusions 
about  the  physical  condition  of  the  African.  His  teeth, 
for  example,  look  so  white  and  perfect  against  his  dark  skin, 
that  we  are  inclined  to  envy  him  his  set  of  ivories,  especially 
when  we  see  him  tearing  up  meat,  or  sweet  cane.  But  a 
closer  examination  of  the  interior  may  reveal  a  less  ideal 
condition  than  one  expected  to  find,  and  people  who  have 
had  their  front  teeth  filed,  usually  come  to  old  age  with  a 
yawning  cavity  where  incisors  should  be.  Many  a  strong- 
looking  carrier  may  be  found  to  be  suffering  painfully  all 
through  his  arduous  journey  with  bilharzia. 

Their  careless  habits  of  eating  and  drinking  make  them 
peculiarly  subject  to  intestinal  and  parasitic  diseases,  and 
when  one  examines  the  history  of  families  the  infant  mor- 
tality is  found  to  be  very  great.  I  once  made  a  census 
of  a  number  of  families  in  several  villages,  and  found  it  no 
uncommon  history  for  a  woman  to  have  borne  as  many  as 
seven  children,  only  two  of  whom  attained  to  manhood  or 
womanhood.    The  lack  of  knowledge  of  the  simplest  laws  of 

139 


140         THE  CAUSES  OF  DISEASE 

hygiene,  and  of  care  of  children,  led  to  this  serious  infant 
mortality.  To-day,  however,  the  increased  knowledge, 
and  better  feeding,  and  greater  sobriety  of  the  people  arc 
largely  decreasing  the  death-rate,  and  it  is  an  undoubted 
fact  that  the  wives  of  Christian  monoganaists  have  now  larger 
families  of  living  children  than  were  ever  heard  of  among 
polygamists. 

In  a  native's  eyes  there  are,  at  least,  five  explanations  for 
sickness  and  pain.  First,  and  least  frequently,  there  arc 
natural  causes  ;  then  there  is  the  action  of  sorcerers  by  magic 
and  poison  ;  the  retributive  effects  of  the  sins  of  others,  and 
the  work  of  poison ;  unfriendly  spirits ;  demon-possession. 
First,  then,  let  us  consider  their  treatment  of  diseases  which 
have  risen  from  natural  causes,  and  I  do  not  mean  to  include 
in  this  class  only  those  whose  cause  is  known,  but  those  also 
which  are  recognized  as  having  arisen  without  the  interfer- 
ence of  any  magical  agency.  Although  the  native  is  slow 
to  connect  cause  and  effect,  he  is  not  so  childish  as  to  be 
unable  to  recognize  that  the  violent  sickness  with  which  he 
has  been  seized  may  have  arisen  from  poisonous  mush- 
rooms he  has  just  eaten,  or  that  the  gnawing  pain  in  his 
mouth  comes  from  a  decayed  tooth.  And  other  common 
illnesses  such  as  fever,  or  pneumonia,  will  not  necessarily  be 
traced  to  magical  influences,  but  may  be  simply  accepted 
as  the  act  of  God. 

There  is  an  immense  pharmacy  of  herbal  medicines 
known  to  the  natives.  Every  intelligent  native  can  find 
some  medicinal  herb,  and  when  a  relative  is  taken  ill,  his  first 
duty  will  be  to  seek  a  root  which  he  thinks  may  be  efficacious. 
But  should  the  sickness  take  a  prolonged  or  well-defined 
form,  he  goes  to  the  specialist  for  this  disease.  There  are 
great  numbers  of  people,  who  are  not  doctors,  but  who 
retain  as  a  family  secret,  the  knowledge  of  medicinal  roots 
for  particular  afflictions.  One  man  may  know  the  specific 
for   pleurisy,   another   for  epilepsy,   another   for   madness. 


SPECIALISTS  141 

Some  have  the  secret  by  which  the  production  of  female 
progeny  can  be  secured,  and  so  on  for  all  the  ills  and  all  the 
longings  to  which  the  native  is  heir.  Most  of  these  herbal 
medicines  have  strong  purgative  or  emetic  effects,  and 
although  I  am  quite  ignorant  of  their  nature,  I  am 
bold  enough  to  say  that  they  are  not  all  unproductive  of 
good.  One  time  when  my  calves  were  very  sickly  with  worms 
I  called  in  a  local  chief  who  had  a  reputation  for  under- 
standing cattle  diseases,  and  asked  him  to  treat  them. 
He  dug  up  a  root  from  a  near  ant-hill,  pounded  it  down, 
and  boiled  it  in  water,  then  he  gave  each  calf  a  big 
draught  of  the  medicine,  not  neglecting  to  squirt  a  mouthful 
under  the  tail  and  into  the  ears.  The  external  douche 
was  not  the  effective  operation  certainly,  but  by  the  evening 
each  one  of  the  calves  was  cured. 

There  are  a  few  men  who  are  skilful  bone-setters.  They 
use  a  piece  of  reed  mat  as  a  splint,  and  tie  the  broken  limb 
firmly  into  position.  I  have  seen  cases  of  good  recovery, 
both  of  men  and  of  cattle,  under  their  treatment. 

Tooth-pulling  is  a  very  painful  operation.  The  decayed 
tooth  is  knocked  out  with  a  little  axe  and  hammer,  if  it  will 
not  yield  to  the  pull  of  a  string.  No  wonder  that  the  white 
man's  forceps  are  very  popular,  and  that  he  who  carries  a 
set  of  tooth-pulling  instruments  need  never  lack  patients. 
But  besides  the  non-professional  specialists,  there  is  a 
considerable  band  of  "  doctors  "  in  the  land,  who  earn  their 
living  by  the  treatment  of  disease.  They  do  not  pretend  to 
be  able  to  treat  everything,  but  each  man  has  an  established 
reputation  for  the  cure  of  a  particular  set  of  diseases,  and  when 
these  arise  he  is  sent  for  to  try  his  art.  He  must  not,  how- 
ever, press  his  medicines  on  any  one  who  has  not  first  asked 
for  them,  for  should  he  either  for  mercenary  or  philanthropic 
motives  treat  some  sick  person  who  has  not  called  him, 
he  will  be  in  grave  danger  of  being  charged  with  sorcery  or 
with  poisoning,  should  any  evil  results  follow  his  treatment. 


142  WITCHCRAFT 

The  professional  doctors  depend  for  their  success  on  mental 
influences  as  well  as  the  power  of  their  medicines.  Songs 
and  dances,  incomprehensible  incantations,  and  strange 
dress,  clever  tricks  of  sleight-of-hand  which  have  nothing  to 
do  with  the  disease,  are  all  used  to  inspire  the  patient  with 
confidence  in  his  physician  ;  and  I  rather  fancy  that  a  doctor's 
reputation  grows  more  by  the  power  of  these  externalities, 
than  by  the  number  of  cures  he  effects. 

The  second  explanation  of  disease  is  magic,  and  when  the 
sickness  does  not  immediately  yield  to  simple  drug  remedies, 
this  is  the  first  cause  that  is  sought.  All  natives  are  supposed 
to  have  magical  powers  over  their  neighbours  should  they 
choose  to  use  them,  hence  when  enmity  has  arisen  between 
men,  one  of  the  natural  thoughts  of  the  afflicted  man  is  that 
he  has  been  bewitched  by  his  enemy.  No  contact  with  each 
other  is  necessary  for  effective  magic.  A  man's  footprints 
might  be  stabbed  or  cupped  by  his  enemy,  and  in  the 
morning  he  would  be  found  in  his  hut  bleeding  from  wounds, 
or  blistered  and  dying.  Another  might  come  secretly  in 
the  night  and  cut  the  verandah  posts  of  his  enemy's  house 
in  a  certain  way,  and  next  morning  the  man's  body  would 
be  found  cut  and  wounded  in  a  similar  fashion.  The  com- 
monest method  of  bewitching  was  by  getting  possession  of 
some  discarded  part  of  the  body.  Hence,  precautions  were 
taken  to  conceal  whatever  might  give  an  enemy  opportunity 
to  hurt  the  owner.  When  a  man  or  woman  had  the  hair 
clipped,  or  shaved,  all  the  hair  was  gathered  and  hid  in 
deep  ant-holes,  lest  a  sorcerer  should  find  it  out  and  knowing 
the  OAvner  do  him  harm.  The  sorcerer  might  mix  the  hair 
with  medicine  and  cause  people  to  drink  it  in  their  sleep  by 
some  occult  power,  or  he  might  curse  the  mixture  saying, 
"  If  this  hair  is  So-and-so's  let  him  die,  but  if  not  let  him 
recover."  And  such  a  curse  was  most  potent.  Chiefs  used 
to  get  their  hair  cut  by  a  slave  who  was  sent  to  throw  it 
away  in  some  secret  place  ;   but  sometimes  the  slave  had  a 


WITCHCRAFT  143 

cause  of  enmity  in  his  heart,  and  before  he  hid  it,  he  would 
curse  the  hair,  and  the  chief  would  immediately  fall  sick, 
and  perhaps  die. 

When  finger-nails  were  cut,  the  clippings  were  hidden  away 
or  buried  in  the  earth  lest  an  enemy  should  find  them  and 
slice  them  up,  causing  the  owner's  death.  When  a  man's 
tooth  is  pulled,  he  is  careful  not  to  leave  it  lying  about, 
also  to  cover  with  earth  all  the  blood  he  spits  out,  lest  some- 
one use  these  parts  of  himself  for  evil  magical  purposes. 

So  also  there  was  great  magical  power  in  expectoration, 
and  should  any  of  a  man's  saliva  fall  on  the  body  of  another, 
serious  charges  were  apt  to  be  made  which  could  only  be 
removed  by  humble  apologies  and  payment.  Food  spitten 
out  might  also  be  taken  and  cursed,  and  the  man  who  had 
rejected  it  become  seriously  ill.  When  one  eats  on  the  path 
even,  what  is  left  over  is  hidden  far  away  in  the  bush,  lest 
an  opportunity  of  doing  evil  be  given  to  some  sorcerer. 

So  numerous  are  the  methods  by  which  an  enemy  may 
bewitch  another,  that  sudden  sickness  and  inexplicable 
diseases  were  usually  suspected  of  being  the  work  of  some 
unfriendly  villager  ;  and  should  the  sick  man  or  his  friends 
make  a  definite  accusation  of  magical  influences,  there  was 
no  other  escape  for  the  suspected  man  than  by  going  through 
the  poison  ordeal  to  prove  his  innocence. 

Another  cause  to  which  death  is  often  attributed,  is 
poisoning,  and  the  native  to  whom  the  powers  of  the  sorcerer 
are  very  real,  whether  they  be  exercised  by  magic  or  by  some 
deadly  poison,  gives  one  name  (ufwiti)  to  these  two  very 
different  means  of  harming  another.  This  is  a  point  which 
ought  to  be  clearly  understood.  The  Europeans  are  in- 
clined to  translate  ufwiti  by  the  one  word  sorcery,  and  to 
condemn  it  absolutely.  Indeed,  to  charge  another  with 
ufwiti  is  a  criminal  offence,  under  British  rule,  and  I  know 
one  intelligent  boy  who  was  imprisoned  for  a  long  period 
because   he   had   brought  before   the   magistrates   another 


144  POISON 

whom  he  charged  with  being  an  mfwiti.  He  was  told,  and 
rightly  told,  that  the  Government  was  determined  to  put 
down  these  constant  charges  of  sorcery  which  were  doing  so 
much  harm  in  the  villages,  but  what  his  charge  really 
amounted  to  was  that  his  brother  had  died  after  having  been 
given  some  meat  by  another  who  had  a  long-standing  quarrel 
against  him,  and  he  had  grave  suspicions  that  the  meat  was 
poisoned.  There  is  no  doubt  that  one  or  two  very  deadly 
poisons  are  known  to  the  people.  The  two  which  are  most 
dreaded  are  the  gall  of  the  crocodile,  and  of  the  hartebeest. 
When  either  of  these  beasts  is  killed,  great  and  public  care 
is  taken  to  put  the  poison  out  of  the  reach  of  any  evilly 
disposed  person.  Any  time  I  have  shot  a  hartebeest,  my 
men  have  always  brought  the  gall  publicly  to  me,  and 
requested  me  to  dispose  of  it  personally.  They  forbore 
to  hide  it  themselves  lest  afterwards  a  suspicion  might  be 
attached  to  any  one  of  them,  that  knowing  where  it  was,  he 
had  returned  and  dug  it  up. 

These  poisons  were  usually  put  in  the  beer  of  any  one 
who  was  to  be  killed,  and  the  death,  in  great  agony,  occurred 
in  a  few  hours.  That  some  people  were  wicked  enough  to 
kill  their  fellows  by  these  deadly  poisons  I  have  no  doubt. 
But  in  the  past  years,  so  suspicious  are  the  people,  I  have 
scarcely  known  the  death  of  a  chief  which  has  not  given  rise 
to  serious  charges  of  poisoning,  and  in  one  or  two  cases, 
some  of  the  accused  have  been  done  to  death.  Without  a 
post-mortem  examination,  it  would  be  impossible  to  prove 
the  charges,  and  I  believe  that  possibly  in  almost  none  of 
them  was  there  any  serious  ground  for  the  accusation. 

Another  magical  cause  of  disease  is  that  retribution 
which  comes  upon  people  for  their  own  sins,  or  the  sins  of 
others.  The  sin  of  adultery  is  supposed  to  be  particularly 
dangerous  to  the  health  of  the  village.  Deadly  pestilences 
have  come  into  a  community,  and  when  the  cause  was 
sought  out,  it  was  traced  to  an  act  of  immorality  of  this 


RETRIBUTIVE  DISEASE  145 

nature,  and  the  whole  village  suffered.  But  it  was  the 
husband  of  the  unfaithful  woman  who  was  most  liable  to 
become  ill ;  while  a  husband  by  a  similar  offence  brought 
great  danger  to  his  pregnant  wife.  Two  or  three  instances 
may  illustrate  the  popular  idea  of  the  physical  evils  which 
follow  from  unfaithfulness. 

A  Christian  man  was  recently  accused  seriously  of  adultery 
by  the  women  of  his  village.  When  we  came  to  inquire  into 
the  case,  we  could  not  find  any  one  who  could  date  the  sin 
or  name  the  person  wronged.  No  definite  grounds  for  the 
charge  nor  evidence  of  any  kind  was  forthcoming,  yet  the 
accusation  was  seriously  believed.  Further  inquiry  led  to 
the  revelation  of  the  whole  ground  of  the  accusation.  His 
wife,  in  advanced  pregnancy,  was  out  gathering  firewood, 
and  twice  during  the  day  stumbled  over  a  stone  and  was 
in  danger  of  hurting  herself.  Some  women  who  had  seen  her 
stumble  at  once  exclaimed  that  her  husband,  who  was 
from  home,  must  have  fallen  into  sin.  And  for  this  magical 
reason  the  man  was  hounded  from  the  village,  and  some 
would  have  hounded  him  from  the  Church  also. 

I  was  once  called  out  very  suddenly  to  the  paramount 
chief's  village  with  the  alarming  news  that  he  was  dying, 
and  would  possibly  be  dead  before  I  got  there,  and  serious 
suspicions  were  held  as  to  the  cause  of  his  sickness.  When  I 
got  to  his  head  village  I  fully  expected  to  find  the  public 
mourning  in  progress,  and  a  severe  civil  commotion,  but 
was  relieved  to  find  him  still  alive,  and  suffering  from 
diphtheria,  apparently.  While  he  lay  expecting  death, 
his  chief  induna  was  holding  an  inquiry  in  the  village,  to 
which  every  one  of  the  chief's  scattered  wives  was  called. 
He  was  making  strenuous  attempts  to  discover  what  wife 
had  been  unfaithful,  and  thus  had  caused  the  chief's  illness. 
So  great  was  the  alarm  over  the  serious  sickness,  and  so 
strong  the  faith  that  in  confession  was  the  only  hope  of 
recovery,  that  one  of  the  chief  wives  confessed  to  adultery. 


146  SICKNESS 

She  was  driven  forth  from  the  village,  for  the  death  penalty 
could  no  longer  be  administered.  And  with  a  great  load  off 
his  mind  the  induna  proceeded  to  doctor  his  master.  He 
succeeded  in  extracting  the  membrane  from  the  chief's 
throat  by  manipulating  an  oiled  feather,  and  had  the  satis- 
faction of  seeing  him  recover,  and  resume  his  usual  life  of 
daily  debauchery. 

But  the  consequences  of  unfaithfulness  do  not  fall  on 
others  only,  the  poor  woman  who  has  sinned  is  likely  to 
have  a  dreadful  time  at  childbirth.  Difficult  labour  was 
so  invariably  regarded  as  the  result  of  unfaithfulness,  that 
to  say  that  a  woman  died  in  childbirth  is  to  say  she  died 
an  evil  person  {muheni).  As  hour  after  hour  of  distress 
followed  on,  the  old  women  gathered  into  the  poor  sufferer's 
hut,  and  began  to  urge  her  to  confess  her  sin  that  she  might 
have  a  safe  delivery,  until  at  last  in  the  agony  of  her  need, 
and  to  save  herself  from  her  accusers,  and  from  threatening 
death,  she  divulged  the  names  of  those  with  whom  she  had 
sinned.  And  though  her  accusation  might  be  the  untruth 
of  hysteria,  with  no  actual  basis  of  fact,  there  was  no  dis- 
puting her  confession.  The  accused  were  already  guilty,  and 
must  pay. 

When  sickness  is  persistent,  and  no  natural  cause  is 
known,  and  no  magic  suspected,  a  doctor  is  called  in  to 
discover  what  spirits  have  been  offended,  and  have  caused 
the  disease.  By  means  of  his  divining-stones  and  shells  he 
is  soon  able  to  name  the  angry  shade,  and  the  friends 
immediately  proceed  to  propitiate  him  with  prayer  and 
offerings  of  beer  and  foodstuffs. 

If  all  the  worship  of  the  spirits  has  not  brought  back 
strength  to  the  sufferer,  a  doctor  of  demons  (virombo,  wild 
creatures)  is  called  to  try  to  exorcise  those  that  have  taken 
possession  of  the  invalid.  Now  there  are  several  different 
kinds  of  demons,  which  are  named  after  certain  tribes, 
and  each  type  of  demon  only  responded  to  his  own  par- 


A  DOCTOR  OF  DEMONS  147 

ticular  dance  and  dress.  It  was  therefore  the  work  of  the 
exerciser  to  discover  what  kind  of  demon  possessed  the  in- 
vahd,  and  this  he  did  by  a  series  of  changes  in  dress  and 
dance.  He  would  first  enter  the  crowded  hut  dressed  in 
skins  only,  and  rattling  his  drum  to  a  particular  beat.  If 
there  was  no  response  he  went  out  and  returned  dressed  with 
ribbons  bound  about  his  head  and  hanging  down  behind, 
and  danced  in  quick  gyrations.  If  the  demon  still  refused 
to  respond,  he  entered  again  clothed  with  jennet  skins, 
dancing  with  a  shaking  of  his  abdomen,  and  the  muscles  of 
his  body,  and  so  on.  When  the  appropriate  dance  and  dress 
appeared,  the  sick  man  became  like  one  possessed.  He  called 
for  a  dress  like  that  of  the  dancer,  and  forgetting  his  weak- 
ness, rose  from  his  mat  and  danced  with  the  exorcist,  imita- 
ting his  steps.  The  people  in  the  neighbourhood  became 
possessed  by  the  same  dancing  mania,  and  they  gyrated 
or  leapt  about  with  the  sick  man,  until  perspiration  poured 
down  his  body,  and  at  last  he  had  to  desist  from  sheer 
weakness.  That  was  the  last  and  final  cure.  If  the  exorcism 
of  the  demon  did  not  stay  the  sickness,  nothing  more  could 
be  done,  death  alone  could  release  the  sufferer. 


CHAPTER   XV 

BIRTH  TO  DEATH 

WHEN  children  are  born  to  the  Tumbuka  there 
is  a  double  welcome  to  the  girl  baby.  One  cry 
of  joy  is  given  by  the  women  in  the  hut  when 
they  see  that  a  boy  is  born,  but  two  cries  when  the  babe  is 
a  girl,  for  they  say  the  boy  is  but  a  "  single  arrow,"  and  death 
in  war  awaits  him.  And  should  he  live  till  marriage,  he  is 
but  as  a  pot  that  breaks,  for  he  must  leave  the  village  of  his 
parents,  and  build  in  the  village  of  his  wife.  But  the  girl 
will  remain,  and  it  is  she  who  will  increase  the  parental 
village. 

When  twins  or  lame  or  sickly  children  were  born,  the 
father  and  mother  were  sent  out  of  the  village,  and  a  shed 
was  built  for  them  in  the  bush.  There  they  had  to  live 
for  two  months,  the  mother  was  not  allowed  to  cook  food 
for  her  husband,  or  to  touch  salt,  for  the  consumption  of 
food  prepared  by  her  would  cause  the  husband  and  his 
fellow-villagers  to  suffer  from  swollen  legs.  The  man  must 
undertake  all  culinary  operations  till  the  time  of  purification 
be  over,  if  no  friendly  woman  in  the  village  should  offer  to 
do  this  service  for  him.  When  the  time  of  seclusion  was 
over  the  parents  and  child  returned  to  the  village,  and  at 
the  cross-roads  they  broke  a  pot  given  them  by  one  of  the 
midwives,  and  then  entering  the  village  the  mother's  head 
was  shaved  and  medicine  given  her.  Afterwards  she  cooked 
porridge  into  which  some  magic  herbs  were  introduced,  and 
this  was  divided  out  to  their  fellow- villagers.     Thus  the 

148 


CUTTING  THE  TEETH  149 

spell  of  the  birth  was  broken,  and  social  intercourse  re- 
established. Among  the  Tumbuka  the  twin  children  were 
carefully  reared,  but  by  other  tribes  they  were  exposed  in 
the  bush.  They  were  supposed  to  be  peculiarly  subject  to 
jealousy,  so  no  one  was  allowed  to  give  a  present  or  do  a 
kindness  to  one  unless  he  was  prepared  to  do  it  to  the  other. 
Their  lives  were  as  one.  Nor  might  an  angry  villager  strike 
one,  because  of  the  pain  his  blow  would  give  to  the  other. 

Some  of  the  people  deny  that  children  whose  upper 
teeth  were  cut  before  the  lower,  were  abandoned,  but  others 
confess  that  this  was  the  custom.  I  have  myself  seen  the 
body  of  a  little  child  lying  dead  on  the  sand  of  a  river, 
where  it  had  been  laid  by  its  mother  because  of  this  abnormal 
tooth-cutting.  Should  a  mother  die,  there  was  little  hope 
for  her  infant.  Sometimes  a  kind  matron  braved  all  possible 
charges,  and  reared  the  orphan  at  her  own  breast.  But 
more  frequently  the  complication  of  accusations  that  arose 
on  the  death  of  a  mother  made  it  dangerous  for  any  one  to 
help  the  little  creature,  until  it  was  too  late,  and  the  child 
was  interred  with  its  mother. 

A  boy  once  came  to  me  to  help  him  out  of  somewhat 
serious  difficulties  he  was  in.  His  story  was  as  follows.  His 
wife  had  given  birth  to  a  child,  and  a  few  days  after  had  died. 
The  relatives  at  once  gathered  and  demanded  heavy  pay- 
ments. He  had  been  learning  in  school,  and  had  received 
some  little  enlightenment,  and  thought  he  ought  to  resist 
their  extortions.  "  It  was  the  act  of  God,"  he  declared. 
"  I  am  not  responsible  for  my  wife's  death."  But,  as  her 
husband  and  the  father  of  the  child,  they  maintained  he 
was.  So  they  refused  to  help  him  to  bury  the  corpse  until 
full  payment  was  made,  and,  of  course,  no  unrelated  villager 
would  help,  and  become  party  to  the  quarrel.  The  youth 
was  either  strong-minded  or  stingy,  and  refused  to  pay. 
So  he  went  alone  and  dug  a  grave,  and  carried  the  corpse 
to  the  mouth  of  the  grave.     Then  he  looked  on  his  little 


150  FEEDING  THE   CHILD 

sickly  babe.  It  was  crying  for  lack  of  nourishment,  for  no 
one  would  mother  it,  and  it  would  soon  be  dead.  So  he  took 
the  little  thing  and  rolled  it  in  the  mat  with  the  dead  mother, 
and  buried  the  two  together.  As  he  lowered  the  mat  into 
the  grave  he  could  hear  its  cries. 

When  I  rose  up  in  horror  at  his  story,  he  only  answered, 
"  But  the  child  would  have  died  of  starvation  in  a  short 
time.    No  one  would  feed  it." 

Ordinarily  children  are  not  weaned  until  they  are  two 
years  old  at  least,  and  during  all  that  time  the  wife  is  taboo 
to  her  own  husband.  From  the  first  day  of  the  baby's  life 
the  mother's  milk  is  supplemented  with  a  thin  gruel,  which 
is  thrust  upon  the  baby  in  no  tempting  fashion.  The  nurse 
or  mother  holds  the  child  on  her  knees,  and  laying  the 
hollowed  left  hand  under  the  child's  mouth,  fills  it  with 
gruel.  The  air  passages  are  choked  with  the  uninviting  mess, 
and  with  every  struggle  and  cry  the  child  makes,  it  is  com- 
pelled to  gulp  down  a  mouthful.  It  is  a  strong  testimony 
to  the  magnificent  digestions  of  these  little  Africans  that 
their  stomachs  do  not  revolt  against  the  food  thus  thrust 
upon  them.  Wherever  mothers  are  congregated,  there  are 
sure  to  be  numerous  babies,  and  from  one  at  least  there  seems 
to  be  continually  going  up  a  crying,  and  gurgling,  and 
gulping,  which  indicate  that  a  baby  is  being  fed. 

Mothers  carry  their  children  on  their  hips  when  they  take 
them  up  for  a  little.  But  all  day  the  child  is,  in  lieu  of 
perambulator  or  tempting  cot,  bound  to  the  mother's  back, 
by  a  goatskin,  the  legs  spread  out  on  either  side.  With 
this  perpetual  burden  the  woman  pounds  her  maize,  and 
hoes  her  garden,  and  goes  through  her  most  violent  labours. 
When  the  cold  evening  winds  are  blowing  she  sits  down  for 
a  gossip  with  her  neighbours,  and  unlooses  the  babe  who  has 
been  perspiring  all  day  in  the  goatskin,  and  who  now  crawls 
about  without  a  stitch  to  warm  it.  No  wonder  that  lung 
diseases  frequently  carry  off  the  tender  little  things. 


CHILDHOOD  151 

As  soon  as  the  children  are  able  to  run  about  by  them- 
selves, they  enjoy  a  great  deal  of  freedom.  The  girls  soon 
separate  themselves  from  the  boys,  and  have  their  own 
occupations  and  amusements.  They  play  at  pounding  maize, 
and  have  their  toy  mortars.  They  follow  their  mothers  to 
the  well,  and  practise  balancing  mealie  cobs,  or  little  dishes 
on  their  heads.  They  have  their  crude  dolls,  and  bind  them 
on  their  backs  as  they  themselves  were  once  bound.  And 
when  the  cool  of  the  evening  comes  they  dance  together, 
with  pretty  rhythm,  and  sing  their  simple  songs. 

Boys  are  not  more  than  four  or  five  when  they  begin  to 
follow  the  others  who  herd  the  goats  all  day  in  the  bush.  It 
is  a  merry  boyish  time  for  them.  In  the  open  glades  they 
erect  mimic  huts  and  kindle  fires,  at  which  they  cook  their 
stolen  or  captured  food.  They  set  up  neat  traps  for  birds, 
and  field  mice,  and  often  have  a  nice  little  feast  of  their 
spoil.  They  have  toy  bows  and  arrows  which  do  not  kill, 
but  give  them  good  practice  ;  sometimes,  however,  they 
have  a  stand-up  fight,  not  with  fists,  but  with  more 
dangerous  weapons,  stones  and  knobkerries.  A  goodly 
number  of  men  carry  with  them  through  life  ugly  scars  on 
their  heads,  or  blindness  in  an  eye,  which  they  got  in  the 
fights  when  they  were  herds. 

When  a  boy  reached  puberty  his  parents  sent  an  old  man 
to  give  him  advice  about  the  conduct  which  a  good  citizen 
should  maintain.  There  were  no  particular  ceremonies 
observed  in  his  case.  But  he  now  began  to  associate  with 
bigger  boys,  and  to  herd  the  cattle. 

A  girl  at  that  period  was  subjected  to  a  prolonged  ritual, 
with  numerous  fixed  rules  of  ceremony.  For  a  week  she  was 
shut  up  in  a  house  and  not  allowed  any  contact  with  village 
life.  Younger  girls  were  admitted  to  sit  with  her  for  a  time, 
and  she  was  often  found  weeping,  for  she  saw  the  sorrows  and 
burdens  of  motherhood  approaching,  and  all  the  simple  joys 
of  her  childhood  disappearing.    After  a  week  she  was  allowed 


152  MORALS  AND  MAXIMS 

to  come  out  occasionally  and  sit  under  the  eaves  of  the  hut. 
But  should  any  grown  person  pass  near  she  had  to  hide  her 
head  with  a  cloth,  and  not  look  on  him. 

On  the  first  days  of  her  seclusion  her  body  was  rubbed 
daily  with  a  red  powder  made  from  the  iron  scum  of  stagnant 
pools.  And  at  the  end  of  the  week  the  red  dust  was  cleaned 
off,  and  her  body  was  painted  with  the  grey  of  ashes  or 
white  flour,  to  show  that  she  was  now  clean.  The  old  women 
who  controlled  the  ceremonies  then  took  her  to  the  river  to 
wash,  and  anointed  her  body  with  a  red  mixture,  and  shaved 
the  hair  on  the  top  of  her  head.  Then  she  was  mounted  on 
the  shoulders  of  one  of  the  women  who  carried  her  through  the 
village  in  procession,  and  danced  with  her  among  the  huts. 
The  young  girl  wriggled  about  on  her  human  throne  with 
coy  grimaces,  and  the  people  brought  to  her  little  presents 
of  beads. 

She  was  then  taken  to  her  hut  and  strictly  instructed  by 
the  old  women.  The  commandments  they  gave  her  were 
the  moral  code  of  the  tribe,  and  many  of  them  showed  not 
a  little  sense  of  what  constitutes  a  good  woman.  Here  are 
some  of  the  laws. 

Secrecy  is  evil.  Men  hate  cruelty  and  love  kindness. 
Lies  destroy  a  village.  Do  not  despise  your  husband  :  cook 
for  him  if  he  is  hungry.  Tend  carefully  your  father-in-law 
and  mother-in-law  in  their  sickness.  Theft  is  wrong.  Sloth- 
fulness  is  wrong.  Don't  give  your  husband  uncooked 
porridge.     Reverence  the  old. 

Great  regard  was  paid  to  these  instructions  of  youth,  and 
the  parents  felt  that  the  future  character  of  their  daughter 
depended  on  her  obedience  to  their  commands.  Should  she 
prove  rebellious,  the  women  were  sent  back  again  to  repeat 
their  precepts.  They  stuck  a  needle  into  the  pupil's  body 
till  the  blood  flowed,  and  then  they  reiterated  with  more 
particularity  all  that  they  had  already  said. 

Among  other  Central  African   tribes  it  was   a   common 


MARRIAGE  153 

practice  for  a  girl  to  be  espoused  to  a  husband  when  she  was 
still  a  child,  and  for  the  two  to  cohabit.  But  this  practice 
does  not  seem  to  have  been  allowed  among  the  Tumbuka. 
A  marriage  engagement  might  indeed  be  made,  but  the 
couple  did  not  live  together  until  six  months  or  a  year  after 
the  girl  had  come  to  womanhood.  Among  some  sections  of 
the  tribe  the  interval  was  even  as  long  as  two  or  three  years. 

There  were  certain  prohibited  degrees  of  marriage. 
People  of  the  same  clan  name  were  not  supposed  to  marry, 
but  cousins  who  were  children  of  a  brother  and  sister  might. 
When  a  man  died  his  brother  had  the  first  claim  upon  his 
widow,  and  sons  also  might  inherit  their  father's  widows, 
but  not  their  own  mother. 

When  a  young  man  cast  eyes  upon  a  likely  maiden,  and 
wished  to  take  her  to  be  his  wife,  he  first  went  to  her  parents 
and  spoke  with  them.  They  did  not  give  their  consent  at 
once,  but  told  him  they  would  make  inquiries,  whereupon 
they  proceeded  to  find  out  the  clan  of  the  lover,  and  whether 
he  was  a  diligent  worker,  and  likely  to  keep  their  daughter 
in  comfort.  If  the  results  of  their  inquiries  were  satisfactory, 
the  girl  was  asked  whether  she  loved  the  young  man  and 
was  willing  to  be  his  wife.  When  she  saw  that  her  parents 
were  favourably  disposed  to  him  she  probably  assented. 

The  lover  then  sent  on  ahead  a  present  to  his  future 
father-in-law,  perhaps  a  hoe,  or  some  beads,  and  asked  if  he 
might  come  to  see  his  sweetheart.  Consent  was  at  once 
given,  and  when  he  arrived  in  the  village,  the  girl,  accom- 
panied by  many  of  her  friends,  went  to  the  hut  where  he 
was  staying  and  spent  the  evening  in  talk. 

The  engagement  was  now  fixed,  and  the  man  had  to  come 
and  build  a  house  in  his  father-in-law's  village,  and  when  the 
rains  fell,  help  him  to  hoe  his  garden.  Then  after  all  these 
preliminary  arrangements  were  completed,  messengers  were 
sent  to  call  him  to  the  marriage.  On  his  arrival  he  was 
placed  on  a  mat  along  with  his  wife  in  front  of  their  house, 


154  A  MARRIAGE  CEREMONY 

and  the  villagers  gathered  round  to  dance  before  them. 
Great  quantities  of  beer  had  been  prepared  beforehand,  and 
the  dance  was  considerably  stimulated  by  heady  potations. 
While  the  people  danced  before  the  blushing  couple,  they 
brought  them  little  presents  of  beads,  and  all  who  gave  a 
wedding  present  were  entitled  to  the  privilege  of  bestowing 
some  advice  upon  the  couple.  One  man  would  come  with 
a  string  of  light-coloured  beads,  and  flinging  them  on  the 
mat  praise  the  hospitality  and  kindness  he  had  received 
from  the  girl  in  the  past,  and  commend  her  to  her  husband. 
But  another  might  come  with  a  string  of  dark  beads,  should 
the  girl  have  a  bad  reputation,  and  upbraiding  her  for  her 
churlishness  to  him  in  the  past  fling  the  beads  far  into  the 
village.  The  bridegroom  also  had  to  make  further  presents 
to  his  father-in-law.  When  the  evening  fell  the  bride  and 
her  sister  stood  by  the  door  of  the  husband's  hut  with  a  little 
basket  in  their  hand,  and  as  the  husband  passed  into  the 
hut  he  laid  a  hoe  or  beads  in  the  basket  as  a  gift  to  his  bride, 
and  again  laid  another  offering  on  the  mat  before  they  sat 
down  together.  The  old  women  now  gathered  in  the  house 
till  it  was  packed  full,  and  then  they  all  let  loose  their  wisdom 
and  experience  on  the  newly-wedded  pair.  Volumes  of 
advice  on  their  duties  to  one  another  were  given,  and  as  each 
old  woman  spoke  the  bride  and  bridegroom  bowed  them- 
selves in  silence  in  respect  to  her  age  and  wisdom. 

Then  all  left  the  hut,  and  dancing  was  continued  through- 
out the  night.  In  the  morning  the  husband  emerged  first, 
and  was  greeted  by  his  friends.  And  if  he  were  satisfied 
with  his  wife  and  all  the  arrangements  the  marriage  was  now 
complete,  and  he  went  out  of  the  village  with  a  bow  and 
arrow,  and  aiming  at  a  tree,  transfixed  it  hard  with  his 
arrow.  So  would  he  treat  anyone  who  dared  to  rob  him 
of  his  wife. 

When  the  husband  and  wife  began  housekeeping  together 
there  was  a  little  ceremony  of  eating  out  of  the  same  dish, 


Tom-tom 

The  great  drum  which  U5ed  to  be  beaten  through  the  long_ night- 
dances.  It  is  made  of  a  hollowed  tree,  closed  at  both  ends  with  ox- 
hide, and  laced  with  small  hide-strips.  It  is  now  used  to  call  to 
worship. 


A  Convalescent  Home 

This  is  a  temporary  shelter  built  for  those  who  are  suffering  from  infectious  diseases  or 
for  mothers  who  have  borne  twins. 


STARTING  HOUSEKEEPING        155 

but  it  was  accompanied  with  some  difficulty,  for  the  wife 
may  not  see  her  husband's  mouth  when  he  eats,  nor  may  the 
husband  see  his  wife's.  So  they  sat  together,  back  to  back, 
and  ate  in  this  unsociable  fashion.  Chiefs  also  seemed  to 
have  a  strange  shyness  about  their  eating.  They  were  never 
seen  by  their  people  conveying  food  to  their  mouths.  When 
a  dish  was  brought  to  them  they  retired  behind  a  house,  or 
entered  some  empty  hut  and  ate  alone.  But  after  the  first 
burst  of  conjugal  sociability,  husband  and  wife  had  no  need 
to  turn  their  backs  on  one  another,  for  the  husband  ate 
always  along  with  the  men  and  boys  of  the  village,  and  the 
woman  took  what  scraps  she  could  find  along  with  females 
only. 

The  husband  now  became  a  member  of  his  wife's  village, 
and  should  he  wish,  after  some  years,  to  return  to  his  own 
people,  he  could  only  do  so  by  presenting  a  slave  or  a  cow 
to  his  parents-in-law  to  redeem  himself.  But  his  children 
could  never  be  redeemed.  Though  they  might  go  with  him 
and  his  wife  to  his  old  home,  yet  when  they  grew  up  they 
had  to  return  to  the  village  of  their  maternal  grandparents, 
and  build  there  as  members  of  that  community.  So  long  as 
the  husband  lived  in  the  village  of  his  parents-in-law  he  was 
surrounded  by  a  good  many  taboos  which  must  have  re- 
stricted his  action  considerably.  He  could  not  call  his  new 
parents  by  their  name,  nor  could  he  eat  with  them.  He  was 
bound  to  shoAV  them  an  obedience  and  respect  which  were 
not  demanded  of  him  by  his  own  father  and  mother,  and 
should  he  treat  them  harshly,  he  would  be  driven  from 
the  village,  and  compelled  to  leave  behind  him  wife  and 
children. 

On  the  other  hand,  were  he  dissatisfied  with  his  wife, 
especially  with  her  negligence  in  cooking,  he  could  repudiate 
her.  This  divorce  did  not  take  place  in  private,  but  before 
the  assembled  villagers  and  their  chief.  The  husband 
repudiated  his  wife  by  taking  an  arrow  and  sticking  it  into 


156  DEATH 

the  ground.  An  arrow  was  his  sign  of  jealous  possession 
of  his  wife.  Should  any  one  wrong  her,  he  was  at  liberty  to 
shoot  the  culprit.  Now,  when  he  repudiated  the  woman,  he 
stuck  the  arrow  upright  in  the  ground,  as  a  sign  that 
whosoever  would  might  have  her,  and  he  would  take  no 
revenge. 

From  the  above  remarks  it  will  be  seen  how  much  more 
care  was  exercised  over  the  well-being  of  a  woman  than  over 
that  of  a  man.  She  was  the  greatest  possession  of  a  village, 
and  all  hopes  of  increase  rested  in  her.  This  is  even  more 
dramatically  illustrated  in  the  ceremonies  which  accom- 
panied the  death  of  a  woman.  If  a  person  were  dying, 
women  alone  nursed  the  patient.  No  recently  married 
person  was  allowed  to  enter  the  house,  or  sit  by  the  fire. 
When  death  came  in  the  case  of  a  man  messengers  were  sent 
to  his  friends  to  tell  them  of  his  death,  but  they  took  no 
present  with  them.  And  when  the  mourners  gathered  there 
was  no  wailing.  The  brother  of  the  dead  man  would  perhaps 
be  in  a  state  of  physical  collapse  with  grief,  but  he  made  no 
other  sound  than  that  of  a  suppressed  sobbing,  and  all  the 
other  villagers  were  silent.  The  great  public  wailing  over 
the  death  of  one  of  either  sex  is  a  habit  which  has  recently 
come  in  with  the  Ngoni,  and  even  in  the  case  of  a  woman's 
death,  it  was  only  the  women  mourners  who  wept.  The 
men  controlled  themselves  and  sat  in  silence. 

On  the  occasion  of  a  woman's  death  it  was  the  recognized 
custom  to  receive  the  news  with  murderous  anger.  The 
messengers  were  dispatched  to  the  parents  and  friends 
carrying  with  them  a  hoe  or  a  fowl,  for  if  they  came  empty- 
handed  they  would  be  in  danger  of  being  killed.  When  they 
announced  their  sad  news  they  laid  down  their  gift,  and  fled 
for  their  lives.  The  husband  and  his  friends  then  had  to 
wait  till  his  dead  wife's  people  arrived  and  gave  permission 
for  the  funeral  to  take  place.  In  this  tropical  land,  it  was 
an  urgent  necessity  that  they  should  come  quickly,  for  the 


BURIAL  157 

body  soon  decomposed  ;  if  for  some  reason  they  delayed, 
and  the  husband  impatiently  buried  the  corpse,  he  would 
be  charged  with  murdering  his  wife,  and  trying  to  get  her 
body  out  of  the  way. 

When  the  woman's  relatives  approached  the  village  they 
rested  on  the  path  at  some  distance,  and  the  husband  sent 
another  gift  to  them,  and  asked  them  to  come  on.  After 
they  had  entered  the  village  with  loud  weeping,  the  husband 
told  them  of  the  sickness  and  death  of  his  wife.  They 
listened  in  silence,  and  made  no  reply,  but  immediately 
withdrew  to  the  bush.  When  they  had  gathered  together 
there  they  sent  a  message  to  the  husband's  people  to  bring 
out  the  corpse  and  hang  it  on  a  tree,  that  they  might  fight 
together  and  die  beside  their  dead  relative.  And  if  the 
husband  was  a  poor  man,  unable  to  make  sufficient  payment 
there  was  no  remedy  but  to  go  out  and  fight  with  bows  and 
arrows,  and  several  were  sure  to  be  killed.  Had  he  the  means, 
however,  to  make  some  offering  of  propitiation,  he  called  the 
relatives  to  come  back  and  talk  the  matter  over.  They  then 
returned,  and  sitting  down  opposite  the  house  where  the 
corpse  was,  stated  their  demands.  Possibly  they  would  not 
be  satisfied  until  one  or  two  slaves  were  given  over  to  them, 
or  perhaps  a  tusk  of  ivory. 

Permission  was  now  given  to  prepare  the  grave,  and  to 
dress  the  corpse.  The  body  was  laid  out  on  the  mat  on 
which  death  had  taken  place,  and  was  washed  with  water 
and  anointed  with  oil,  and  dressed  in  all  the  clothes  which 
the  owner  wore.  It  was  then  rolled  up  in  the  mat  and  the 
mat  tied.  All  these  preparations  were  made  by  the  bazukuru — 
friends  who  had  performed  the  last  offices  to  the  dead.  To 
them  great  respect  was  paid,  and  they  could  claim  what  they 
pleased  of  the  possessions  of  the  dead  woman.  No  one 
would  refuse  them  what  they  demanded  lest  the  shade  of 
the  departed  punish  them  for  their  stinginess  to  the  bazukuru. 

At   the   funeral   there   were   three   classes   of  interested 


158  BURIAL 

mourners.  The  bazukuru  were  chief,  and  it  was  they  who 
carried  the  corpse  forth,  and  placed  it  in  the  grave.  The 
bachinihwe  (hyenas)  were  those  who  dug  the  grave.  And  the 
zinkoswe  (certain  relatives,  go-betweens)  stood  by  the  side 
of  the  grave  looking  on,  and  directing  the  operations. 
Should  the  ground  prove  hard,  and  difficult  to  dig,  opera- 
tions were  stopped,  and  a  "  doctor  "  proceeded  to  discover 
why  the  spirits  of  the  dead  hindered  their  work.  Perhaps 
he  would  disclose  that  one  was  digging  who  had  been  at 
enmity  with  the  deceased,  and  then  he  was  summarily 
driven  forth  from  among  the  mourners,  and  work  proceeded 
apace. 

When  all  was  ready  the  bazukuru  brought  forth  the  corpse 
not  by  the  door,  but  by  a  hole  broken  through  the  wall  of 
the  hut,  and  placed  it  in  the  grave  lying  on  its  side,  the  face 
towards  the  west,  and  the  head  towards  the  north,  the 
direction  from  which  tradition  says  the  tribe  originally 
came.  All  the  dishes,  pots,  clothes,  and  articles  of  personal 
use  belonging  to  the  deceased  were  buried  with  him.  But 
no  metal  goods  were  buried,  whether  hoes,  or  arrows,  or  brass 
ornaments.  It  was  feared  that  these  would  give  the  ghost 
opportunity  to  return  with  anger  to  hurt  the  friends.  The 
near  relatives  then  took  pounded  cinders  and  cast  them  into 
the  grave,  that  they  might  not  chatter  in  their  sleep,  or  death 
come  to  them.  And  then  all  pushed  the  earth  back  into  the 
hole.  When  a  child  was  buried  the  chief  mourner  took  hold 
of  the  parents  and  bowing  their  heads  to  the  ground  rubbed 
their  foreheads  on  the  earth,  and  the  mother  pushed  the 
first  dust  into  the  grave  with  her  elbows,  while  all  her  children 
cast  in  ashes. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  grave  would  be  filled  in  by  the 
combined  effort  of  the  mourners  who  pushed  the  earth  back 
into  the  hole  with  their  hands.  Stones  and  logs  and  thorns 
were  laid  on  top  of  the  mound  to  protect  the  grave  from 
hyenas,  and  branches  of  trees  were  planted  round  it.    Baskets 


MOURNING  159 

and  pots,  broken  up,  were  laid  over  all  and  an  offering  of 
foodstuffs.  Some  of  the  surrounding  tribes  had  the  cruel 
fashion  of  killing  a  slave  and  placing  him  in  a  sitting  posture 
over  the  mound  with  a  bow  in  his  hand,  and  an  upright 
stake  driven  through  his  body,  but  this  custom  was  never 
observed  among  the  Tumbuka. 

After  the  funeral  all  those  who  had  taken  part  in  it  went 
to  the  river  to  wash,  the  bazukuru  performing  their  ablutions 
first.  When  they  had  cleansed  themselves  they  washed  the 
hands  of  those  who  had  helped  to  fill  the  grave,  and  the 
entire  bodies  of  those  who  had  handled  the  corpse. 

They  then  set  out  to  the  village,  but,  before  they  arrived, 
a  "  doctor  "  who  had  been  called,  met  them  on  the  path  and 
kindled  a  great  fire  into  which  he  had  put  some  roots,  and 
each  one  of  the  mourners  passed  through  the  flames  of  the 
fire.  A  basket  of  food  of  the  consistence  of  gruel  was  also 
brought  from  which  all  drank  together,  spitting  out  a 
mouthful  on  the  ground. 

The  chief  mourners  now  returned  to  the  village,  and  the 
women  slept  within  the  hut  of  the  deceased,  but  the  men 
built  a  leafy  shed  beside  it  and  slept  there.  All  lay  upon 
leaves,  and  not  on  the  usual  mat.  The  bazukuru  lay  apart, 
and  lived  apart.  They  ate  from  a  broken  dish,  and  by 
themselves.  Should  any  one  step  over  their  feet  as  they  lay 
down,  or  pass  behind  their  back,  it  was  considered  a  serious 
offence,  from  which  he  could  only  clear  himself  by  the 
payment  of  a  fowl.  For  several  days  this  isolation  of  the 
mourners  was  maintained,  until  all  the  distant  friends  had 
arrived  to  express  their  sorrow.  As  these  people  approached 
the  house  of  mourning,  the  women  within  the  hut  started 
wailing,  and  received  the  female  sympathisers.  The  men  sat 
down  without,  and  heard  all  the  details  of  the  sickness  and 
death. 

When  the  period  of  seclusion  was  over  beer  was  brewed, 
and  during  its  preparation,  dances  were  held  all  day  and  all 


160  MOURNING 

night.  Then,  when  it  was  ready,  the  mourners  went  to  the 
grave,  and  digging  a  hole  in  the  earth,  poured  a  portion  of 
the  beer  into  the  hole  as  an  offering  to  the  dead.  They  then 
returned  home,  broke  down  the  sheds,  swept  the  village, 
and  with  much  beer  drinking  and  dancing,  returned  to  their 
own  places  of  abode.  But  the  friends  of  the  deceased 
remained  under  several  taboos  for  nearly  a  year.  They  were 
not  allowed  to  shave  their  heads,  or  to  live  with  their  wives, 
or  to  marry.  Any  bold  person  who  broke  this  taboo  was 
subjected  to  a  heavy  fine. 

At  the  end  of  the  long  mourning  great  feasting  and 
dancing  were  held,  and  the  heads  of  the  friends  were  shaved. 
A  procession  was  made  to  the  grave  with  foodstuffs,  and 
one  of  the  number  taking  a  pot  of  beer  in  his  hand  poured 
it  on  the  grave  and  prayed  to  the  spirit  of  the  dead  thus: 
"  We  have  come  to  bring  you,  our  friend,  back  to  the  village. 
Come  and  visit  your  family.  See  I  give  you  this  food  that 
you  may  drink."  And  then  they  returned  to  the  village 
spilling  meal  on  the  path  as  they  went,  and  placing  a  pot 
of  beer  in  the  hut  of  their  dead  relative.  Next  morning, 
if  they  found  that  the  field  mice  had  scattered  the  meal 
on  the  path,  or  that  the  beer  in  the  house  had  risen,  and 
frothed  over  the  sides,  they  concluded  that  the  shade  of  the 
departed  had  heard  their  prayer,  and  had  returned  to  live 
with  them  in  the  village. 

The  above  description  refers  to  the  burial  rites  of  an 
ordinary  Tumbuka  freeman.  Slaves  were  not  so  reverently 
used,  for  their  bodies  were  generally  cast  into  the  bush 
without  burial,  and  left  to  be  preyed  on  by  vultures  and 
hyenas.  The  same  fate  awaited  epileptics  and  lepers,  even 
though  they  were  freemen.  In  certain  details  the  stereo- 
typed ritual  differed  in  the  various  clans.  All  corpses  were 
laid  on  their  right  side  in  the  grave,  but  the  direction  of 
their  heads  depended  on  the  land  from  which  the  forefathers 
of  the  clan  came.    Those  who  came  from  Mpoto  lay  with 


BURIAL   OF   A  CHIEF  161 

their  heads  to  the  east ;  those  from  Kamanga  with  their 
heads  to  the  north  ;  those  from  Zambwe  with  their  heads 
to  the  north-west,  and  so  on. 

The  foodstuffs,  too,  which  were  laid  on  the  grave  varied 
according  to  the  favourite  diet  of  the  deceased.  For  the 
people  thought  of  the  life  beyond  the  grave  as  very  like 
that  which  men  lived  on  earth,  with  much  the  same  likes 
and  dislikes,  and  occupations  and  sports. 

The  death  of  a  wife  was  always  a  most  serious  matter  for 
the  husband,  but  he  also  found  himself  severely  entangled 
if  too  many  of  his  children  were  dying.  Then  he  became  an 
object  of  hatred  to  his  parents-in-law.  He  was  not  increasing 
their  wealth  in  children,  and  the  blame  for  the  high  mortality 
was  laid  at  his  door.  A  formal  charge  was  at  last  brought 
against  him,  and  he  was  compelled  to  pay  perhaps  one  or 
two  slaves  to  his  wife's  people,  and  when  this  was  done  an 
immediate  reconciliation  took  place.  But  if  he  were  too  poor 
a  man  to  make  sufficient  payment  he  became  the  slave  of 
his  own  wife,  and  she  used  him  as  she  pleased. 

Many  of  the  great  chiefs  were  foreigners,  such  as 
Chikuramayembe,  Chibale,  etc.,  and  at  their  funerals  the 
murderous  rites  of  the  surrounding  tribes  were  practised. 
Then  a  huge  pit  was  dug  for  the  burial,  and  a  score  or  two 
of  victims  were  secured  to  accompany  the  spirit  of  the  dead 
chief.  The  floor  of  the  grave  was  spread  with  ivory,  and 
quantities  of  cloth.  The  victims  who  were  to  be  buried  alive 
were  anointed  with  oil,  and  clothed  in  the  brightest  dresses, 
for  they  were  going  to  a  beautiful  country.  Four  of  the 
best-loved  wives  were  then  put  into  the  grave  alive,  two 
to  hold  the  chief's  body  to  their  breasts,  two  others  to 
hold  his  tobacco-pipes.  Then  two  men  were  put  in  to  watch 
over  him,  and  other  wives  to  lie  by  his  side.  Quantities  of 
cloth,  ivory,  and  other  goods  were  then  laid  over  them  all, 
and  again  more  victims  on  the  top  of  this  wealth.  Then  the 
grave  was  filled  in.  As  the  earth  neared  the  top  two  more 
h 


162  BURIAL   OF  A  CHIEF 

men  were  killed  and  placed  on  the  top,  their  head  and 
shoulders  projecting  above  the  mound.  Into  their  hands 
were  put  a  bow  and  arrow,  and  these  gaunt  corpses  sat  over 
the  grave  to  protect  it  from  any  sorcerer  with  cannibal 
instincts  who  might  wish  to  dig  up  the  corpse,  and  from 
prowling  hyenas.  There  was  only  one  refuge  from  this 
death  for  the  victims  who  were  seized.  Should  one  of  them 
sneeze  in  the  grave,  it  was  believed  that  the  shades  refused 
his  company,  and  he  was  taken  out  and  released. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

LEGAL     PROCEDURE 

WHETHER  there  ever  were  any  constituted 
authorities  among  the  Tumbuka  for  judging 
criminal  cases  I  cannot  tell.  All  the  traditions 
and  customs  for  the  prosecution  of  crime  one  has  been  able 
to  root  out  were  evidently  established  after  the  tribe  had 
broken  up,  and  men  were  largely  their  own  judges,  acknow- 
ledging no  recognized  authority.  Justice  could  not  be 
obtained  within  the  village,  because  the  social  relations  of 
each  member  of  the  community  were  so  intertwined.  A 
husband  could  not  get  a  sentence  against  his  wife  for  any 
wrongdoing  on  her  part,  because  the  villagers  recognized 
that  to  do  her  harm  was  to  destroy  their  own  village,  and 
hope  of  increase.  When  a  man  had  a  quarrel  with  some 
member  of  his  own  village,  the  custom  was  to  go  to  some 
distant  village,  and  calling  the  elders  together,  ask  them  to 
judge  the  case.  If  their  decision  did  not  correspond  with  his 
desires,  he  ignored  them  and  went  off  to  a  more  distant 
village,  where  he  and  his  people  were  entirely  unknown, 
and  again  asked  them  to  hear  his  suit.  If  these  also  decided 
against  him,  he  departed  and  appealed  to  the  final  proof  of 
the  poison  ordeal. 

Few  citizens  were  so  peaceably  disposed  as  to  submit  to 
such  a  cumbrous,  and  indecisive  procedure,  so  the  general 
custom  was  for  the  aggrieved  person  to  take  the  law  into 
his  own  hands,  and  protect  himself  by  magic  medicines, 
or  to  use  summary  methods  of  reprisal  and  death.    When  a 

163 


164  INFIDELITY 

husband  suspected  the  faithfulness  of  his  wife,  he  got  a 
certain  powerful  medicine  from  a  "doctor"  and  hid  it  in  his 
house.  He  then  told  his  wife  that  any  one  who  wronged 
her  would  fall  and  break  his  back.  The  wife  had  absolute 
faith  in  this  potent  charm,  so  much  so,  that  when  the  hus- 
band died,  she  would  not  dare  to  marry  another  until  the 
spell  was  broken.  This  could  only  be  done  by  the  "  doctor  " 
through  an  elaborate  ceremony  to  which  all  relatives  were 
called,  and  after  certain  herbs  had  been  given  them,  which 
they  ate  together. 

A  man  who  had  a  quarrel  with  another,  might  try  to 
shoot  him  with  an  arrow,  and  if  he  found  this  impossible, 
he  would  proceed  to  the  garden  of  his  enemy,  and  cutting  a 
branch  from  a  tree,  lay  it  among  the  foodstuffs.  When 
the  enemy  came  next  to  the  garden  he  saw  the  branch  lying 
there,  and  knew  that  his  garden  was  closed  against  him. 
He  dared  not  enter  it,  or  take  foodstuffs  from  it,  or  death 
would  be  sure  to  enter  his  house.  The  branch  might  also 
be  laid  on  his  grain  store,  or  beside  the  tree  where  he  hoped 
to  get  his  honey.  The  rooted  faith  in  this  magic  medicine 
was  a  more  effective  interdict  on  his  handling  his  food  than 
a  squadron  of  police.  So  he  was  compelled  to  call  up  his 
accuser,  and  ask  him  why  he  had  doomed  him  and  his 
children  to  starvation.  The  man  with  the  grievance  had  then 
to  declare  his  whole  cause  of  complaint,  and  he  would  not 
remove  the  embargo  until  full  and  satisfying  payment  had 
been  made. 

Social  enemies  were  not  so  tenderly  dealt  with.  For  them, 
the  most  summary  penalties  were  reserved  and  that  without 
trial.  Men  who  were  suspected  of  poisoning,  were  shot  by 
any  villager  who  found  opportunity,  and  no  one  inquired 
into  the  justice  of  the  punishment.  When  a  man  became  pos- 
sessed by  that  form  of  uftviti  which  must  have  been  madness 
with  cannibalistic  tendencies,  retribution  soon  followed. 
He  was  the  worst  type  of  sorcerer.    He  became  restless,  and 


THEFT  165 

every  night  left  his  house  and  wandered  about  in  the 
bush.  He  dug  up  corpses  from  the  graves  and  ate  them. 
He  danced,  naked,  among  the  cattle  at  night,  and  did  many 
other  unmentionable  things.  If  any  one  caught  him  at 
his  sport,  he  killed  him  in  very  cruel  fashion,  and  the  body 
was  thrown  aside.  Neither  the  avenger  nor  any  of  the 
villagers  spoke  about  the  cause  of  his  death,  for  it  was  an 
unmentionable  shame  to  the  whole  community.  But 
sometimes  men  were  suspected  of  being  mfwiti,  though  no 
one  saw  them  in  the  act  of  their  vile  behaviour,  and  then 
the  suspected  man  was  made  to  drink  a  strong  mixture  of 
poison.  After  he  had  drunk  it,  he  was  not  allowed  to  sit 
down  until  it  acted ;  should  he  vomit,  he  proved  his  inno- 
cence, and  his  accusers  had  to  pay  him  compensation, 
but  if  he  died  his  body  was  burned  in  a  great  fire  outside  the 
village,  and  a  heap  of  stones  was  thrown  over  him. 

Sometimes  thefts  occurred  in  the  village,  and  the  culprit 
could  not  be  detected.  Then  a  "  doctor  "  was  called,  who  on 
his  arrival  inquired  of  the  assembled  people  whether  they 
were  willing  that  death  should  come  to  all  the  thief's 
family,  or  would  prefer  to  let  their  goods  disappear.  They 
at  once  cried  out  for  death  to  all.  So  the  "  doctor  "  prepared 
his  medicine,  and  went  forth  to  the  cross-roads  and  poured 
it  out  there,  praying  that  this  medicine  might  not  harm  the 
innocent,  but  might  follow  the  guilty  man,  and  kill  him, 
and  his  wife  and  children,  and  his  whole  race. 

Then  he  went  away,  asking  no  payment  until  the  power  of 
his  medicine  had  been  proved.  Perhaps  in  a  short  time  a 
death  occurred  in  the  village,  and  then,  while  the  mourners 
were  still  in  their  sheds,  before  they  had  been  cleansed, 
perhaps  another  member  of  that  same  family  died,  and 
possibly  before  the  year  was  out  still  another.  The  villagers 
had  now  no  doubt  about  the  thief.  The  stricken  family 
was  clearly  guilty,  and  they  and  all  their  near  relations  were 
expelled  or  killed. 


166  VICARIOUS  JUSTICE 

When  a  man  found  it  impossible  to  get  his  quarrel  with 
his  neighbour  settled,  and  had  no  opportunity  to  kill  him, 
he  had  resort  to  a  three-cornered  method  of  bringing  him 
to  justice.  He  would  go  out  to  the  bush,  and  lying  in  wait 
in  the  long  grass,  or  among  the  thick  scrub,  shoot  at  the 
first  lonely  passer-by  and  kill  him.  He  then  retired  to  a 
neighbouring  hill,  and  waited  for  the  discovery  of  the 
corpse.  When  he  saw  that  the  man's  friends  had  found 
the  dead  body,  he  shouted  aloud  from  his  hill-top,  "  It  was 
I  who  killed  this  man.  Go  and  ask  So-and-so  what  is  the 
quarrel  he  has  with  me."  And  so  he  put  them  on  the 
track  of  his  grievance. 

The  relatives  of  the  slain  man  returned  at  once  to  their 
village  and  seizing  their  bows  and  arrows  started  out  to 
fight  the  man  to  whom  they  were  directed.  They  possibly 
did  not  shed  blood,  but  might  seize  his  sister  and  return 
with  her  to  their  village.  The  accused  was  now  compelled 
to  have  his  case  judged  that  he  might  rescue  his  sister. 
And  when  it  was  decided  against  him,  he  had  not  only  to 
pay  the  man  who  brought  the  charge,  but  also  to  compensate 
the  relatives  of  the  man  who  had  been  treacherously  slain 
on  the  path  by  his  enemy. 

Another  method  used  by  the  plaintiff,  was  to  go  off  to 
another  village  and  ask  them  to  give  him  a  war-party  to 
go  out  against  the  village  where  the  accused  lived.  The 
head  of  the  village  readily  agreed  to  this,  for  few  villages 
were  at  peace  with  one  another.  The  little  war-party  hid 
near  some  frequented  path  and  waited  for  travellers.  When 
a  slave  or  poor  man  passed,  they  sat  quiet.  But  when  they 
saw  people  of  property  approaching,  they  started  up  and 
attacked  them.  Several  might  be  killed,  but  an  effort  was 
made  to  capture  as  many  women  as  possible,  and  these 
were  taken  off  as  hostages.  These  hostages  were  most 
kindly  treated.  Should  any  of  the  women  be  wronged  by  a 
villager,  or  die  in  captivity,  most  serious  charges  were  brought 


PAYMENT  IN  SLAVES  167 

against  the  village,  and  heavy  payment  was  demanded. 
The  assaulted  villagers  now  inquired  what  was  the  cause  of 
the  attack.  They  were  told  that  it  was  because  one  of  their 
number  refused  to  settle  a  charge  which  was  made  against 
him.  And  then  there  was  no  help  for  it  but  that  they  go  to 
the  village  elders  and  pay  up  the  fine  for  the  original  charge, 
so  that  their  women  may  be  released  from  captivity. 

The  delivery  over  of  slaves  was  a  very  common  method 
of  paying  up  for  charges  proved,  and  was  the  common 
compensation  paid  to  the  relatives  when  a  wife  died.  These 
slaves  were  not  harshly  treated,  and  when  the  head  of  a 
family  died,  the  senior  slave  in  his  possession  frequently 
became  at  once  a  free  man,  and  the  head  of  his  master's 
family. 

When  people  became  very  angry  in  a  quarrel  they 
frequently  vented  their  passion  in  a  curse,  and  these  curses 
were  greatly  dreaded.  Men  swore  by  their  fathers  and 
mothers,  by  lions,  and  lightning,  by  bloody  fields  of  battle, 
and  by  great  rivers,  calling  on  these  to  pour  out  their  wrath 
on  the  person  cursed.  And,  of  course,  the  natives  are  full 
of  stories  of  how  the  curse  was  soon  fulfilled,  and  the  light- 
ning struck  a  man  in  the  field,  or  a  lion  devoured  him  on  the 
path,  or  the  swollen  river  carried  him  to  death.  To  remove 
a  curse  it  was  necessary  to  call  in  a  "  doctor  "  who  knew 
how  to  prepare  the  proper  medicine,  which  is  called  mpamba. 
Then  the  curser  and  the  cursed  confessed  their  faults,  and 
worshipped  the  ancestral  spirits,  and  drank  together  from  the 
same  cup. 

In  the  early  days  of  my  stay  in  this  country  I  once  took 
a  sick  man  into  my  house  to  nurse  him.  Under  my  crude 
physicking  he  made  no  progress,  and  one  day  when  I  returned 
home  and  went  to  see  how  he  was  getting  on,  I  found  that 
neither  he  nor  his  friends  were  in  the  room.  Shortly  after- 
wards I  was  taking  an  evening  walk  near  a  little  glen,  when 
I  heard  the  ringing  of  iron,  and  the  sound  of  voices  at  hand. 


168  RECONCILIATION 

I  pushed  my  way  quietly  through  the  scrub,  and  there  below 
me  saw  my  patient  and  his  friends.  A  "  doctor "  was 
standing  before  them,  and  they  were  ringing  two  axes 
together.  The  "doctor"  had  discovered  what  was  wrong, 
the  sick  man  was  lying  under  a  curse,  and  now  he 
was  engaged  in  breaking  the  spell.  And  this  was  his 
prayer : 

Doctor  :   "  Mpamba,  mpamba  "  (the  magic  medicine). 

Chorus  from  the  people  :   "  It  will  arise." 
Doctor  :   "  It  is  growing." 

Chorus  :  "It  will  arise." 
Doctor  :   "  It  is  going  to  heaven." 

Chorus  :    "  It  will  arise." 
Doctor:    "  Let  the  oaths  fly  away." 

Chorus  :  "  It  will  arise." 
Doctor  :    "  Let  our  friend  recover." 

Chorus  :    "It  will  arise." 
Doctor  :   "  Let  him  have  health." 

Chorus  :    "  It  will  arise." 

When  two  men  had  quarrelled  they  neither  ate  together, 
nor  spoke  to  one  another,  nor  looked  at  one  another.  But 
they  might  tire  of  this  long  enmity  and  desire  a  reconcilia- 
tion. A  "doctor"  was  therefore  called,  and  he  prepared  his 
mixtures,  and  invited  all  the  villagers  to  come  together  that 
they  might  witness  the  reconciliation.  Then  he  handed  his 
communion  cup  to  one  of  the  two  disputants.  From  this 
he  drank,  and  spat  out  on  the  ground  some  of  the  mixture. 
Then  the  other  took  the  cup  and  did  likewise.  The  quarrel 
was  now  over,  and  the  old  friendship  resumed,  and  they  ate 
and  chatted  together  as  in  former  days. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  PEOPLE 

IF  you  want  to  know  your  native,  you  must  hear  him 
talk  over  the  fire  at  night,  for  then  he  lays  aside  his 
Europeanized  clothes  and  manners,  and  his  tongue 
is  unloosed,  and  he  prattles  on  in  most  frank  fashion.  So 
come  and  sit  with  me  over  the  village  fire  and  listen  to  his 
talk.  The  stars  are  bright  in  the  heavens,  but  there  is  no 
moon,  and  a  somewhat  chill  wind  is  blowing,  so  we  gather  a 
few  sticks  together,  and  lay  them  over  two  or  three  very 
dry  logs,  and  soon  have  a  blazing  fire.  A  dozen  men  sit 
round  it  when  they  see  the  white  man  is  there,  and  has 
unbent  enough  to  have  an  informal  talk.  The  darkness 
soon  removes  their  shyness,  and  the  white  man  in  his 
elaborate  attire  is  not  visible  enough  to  overawe  them. 
The  dancing  flames,  too,  have  a  most  stimulating  and  merry 
effect,  so  talk  begins,  and  the  snuff-box  goes  round,  and  every 
one  is  at  his  ease.  Not  until  long  years  have  accustomed  your 
ears  to  the  vernacular  will  it  be  easy  to  understand  the  pith 
and  humour  of  their  stories.  Many  of  the  cleverest  remarks 
are  cloaked  in  proverbs,  and  references  to  the  past,  and  are 
meaningless  to  the  new-comer.  But  if  you  take  pains  to 
arrest  some  of  the  sudden  phrases  whose  substantive  is 
wanting,  and  whose  construction  is  incomprehensible  you 
will  begin  to  find  yourself  collecting  a  rich  thesaurus  of  wit 
and  wisdom. 

Here  are  some  of  the  smart  sayings  and  proverbs  which 
you  may  hear  in  the  course  of  the  conversation. 

169 


170  PROVERBS 

"  It  is  a  good  day  when  food  is  set  aside."  On  ordinary 
occasions  there  is  scarcely  enough  to  go  round. 

"  '  Let  me  see,""  stole  the  guinea  fowl."  Said  to  a  man  who 
wants  to  look  at  a  thing,  which  it  is  feared  he  may  appro- 
priate. 

"  He  dived  into  a  saucer,  and  his  hack  showed  up."  This 
when  a  man  tries  to  hide  his  fault  by  some  shallow  excuse, 
which  only  reveals  that  he  is  the  culprit. 

"  The  finger-nails  are  surfeited."  A  sarcastic  remark  to 
show  how  little  food  a  man  found  in  his  dish. 

"  He  remembers  when  he  fell,  he  forgot  when  he  was  hurt." 
Said  of  a  man  who  is  angry  with  another  for  showing  him 
his  fault,  instead  of  recognizing  the  fault. 

"  He  is  preparing  relish  without  salt."  Of  a  man  who 
talks  on  without  anything  to  say. 

"  He  slices  one  side  only."  When  a  chief  will  not  judge 
squarely  the  cases  brought  to  him. 

"  How  can  I  shoot  when  the  bird  sits  on  my  bow-string?" 
When  a  man  to  be  charged  is  present,  or  refuses  to  answer 
the  charge. 

"  You  have  swallowed  quickly,  the  chezving  is  still  good." 
Said  to  one  who  has  stopped  too  soon  in  his  story. 

"  What  shall  zve  do  ?  The  axe  broke  on  a  castor  oil  plant." 
It  was  no  fault  of  ours.  The  castor  oil  shrub  is  very  soft 
wood. 

"  Who  eats  the  shells  does  not  forget,  hut  he  who  eats  the 
bean."    The  man  who  suffers  is  the  one  who  remembers. 

"  The  upper  and  the  lower  jaw  meet  together."  The  argu- 
ments are  conclusive. 

"  The  lake  is  stormy."    Said  of  an  angry  man. 

"  You  go  sideways  like  a  crab."  "  Trying  again  and 
again  killed  the  wild  cat."    "  Too  big  a  vanity  hurst  the  bag." 


CONUNDRUMS  171 

"  Laughing  finishes  the  teeth."     "  /  saw  with  the  eyes.     The 
ears  are  liars." 

"  Your  wisdom  is  like  the  mushrooms  which  come  when 
the  porridge  is  finished  "  ;  i.e.  too  late  to  be  useful. 

Of  course,  if  you  want  to  get  a  collection  of  proverbs, 
and  ask  the  people  to  repeat  those  they  know,  you  will  get 
none.  For  they  do  not  know  they  have  such  pithy  sayings, 
and  they  are  not  classified  under  any  name. 

But  try  them  with  guesses,  and  soon  they  will  be  shouting 
at  one  another  in  their  eagerness.  Unfortunately,  some  of 
the  riddles  have  a  double  entendre  answer,  and  some  coarse 
person  may  give  the  base  meaning  and  put  you  and  all 
right-thinking  people  to  confusion.  Most  of  those  I  have 
heard  are  not  very  remarkable  for  their  wit,  but  I  dare  say 
they  are  as  good  as  many  others  given  in  Britain  in  our 
parlour  games.    Here  are  some  of  them,  and  their  answers  : 

What  is  it  that  goes  on  four  legs  in  the  morning,  on  two  at 
midday,  and  on  three  in  the  evening  ?  Answer  :  A  man, 
who  crawls  on  hands  and  knees  in  childhood,  walks  erect 
when  grown,  and  with  the  aid  of  a  stick  in  his  old  age. 

The  pigs  slept  under  the  ant-hill.    Answer  :  Ears. 

The  arrow  was  shot  to  heaven,  and  returned  without  its 
shaft.  Answer  :  Flying  ants,  which  in  rainy  seasons  leave 
their  holes,  in  their  first  flight,  and  quickly  cast  their  wings. 

A  large  garden  reaped  into  the  hands.  Answer  :  A  man's 
hair. 

The  house  of  my  mother  has  no  door.    Answer  :  An  egg. 

The  little  birds  drink  at  one  well.  Answer :  The  roof 
rafters  which  meet  at  the  apex. 

The  roof  is  leaky.    Answer  :   A  basketwork  beer-strainer. 

When  the  fun  has  got  pretty  noisy,  and  the  guesses  pretty 
stupid,  you  turn  the  conversation  to  story-telling.     There 


172  STORIES 

are  several  kinds  of  fables  that  they  love  to  tell.  Some  of 
them  have  running  choruses  throughout  in  which  the  audience 
join  at  intervals.  Many  are  of  the  Brer  Rabbit  type,  and 
almost  invariably  tell  how  the  hare,  or  tortoise,  outwitted 
some  person  or  animal  by  a  clever  trick.  And  the  whole  moral 
that  runs  through  nearly  every  one  is,  what  a  clever  thing 
slyness  is  !  I  have  not  the  art  to  turn  the  humour  of 
their  stories  into  English.  It  would  take  a  fine  gaiety 
of  description  to  help  the  Britisher  to  see  the  spark- 
ling fun  that  runs  through  the  whole  tale.  For  when  the 
native  tells  it,  his  audience  is  in  a  roar  of  laughter  from 
beginning  to  end.  It  is  interesting  to  see  how  truth  and 
fable  run  into  one  another,  so  that  the  native  scarcely 
recognizes  when  he  is  romancing  and  when  he  is  telling  actual 
history. 

"  Does  the  hyena  ever  enter  your  houses,  and  take  away 
people  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  cried  one  man.  "  One  day  a  man  I  know 
left  his  door  open  at  night,  and  fell  sound  asleep  on  his 
mat.  In  the  middle  of  the  night  a  hyena  entered,  and 
sat  down  by  the  fire  to  warm  his  back.  After  she  had  got 
thoroughly  cosy,  she  decided  to  take  the  sleeper  home 
with  her,  to  feast  her  cubs.  So  she  took  him  up  and  laid 
him  across  her  back  so  that  he  might  keep  her  warm,  and 
she  might  not  catch  cold  when  she  went  out  to  the  night 
air.  When  she  got  to  her  hole  with  him  she  laid  him  down 
beside  her  cubs  and  went  off  to  call  her  husband.  And  the 
man  awaking  lay  there  in  mortal  terror,  afraid  to  stir. 
The  cubs  looked  at  him,  and  licked  their  lips  in  anticipation 
of  the  feast  they  were  to  have.  Then  they  began  to  divide 
out  his  parts  among  themselves.  '  I  shall  have  his  eyes,' 
cried  one.    '  And  I  his  ears,'  cried  another. 

"  But  while  they  were  wrangling  among  themselves  for  his 
most  delicate  tit-bits,  the  man  came  thoroughly  to  his  senses, 
and  remembered  that  he  had  his  knife  tied  at  his  belt.    So  he 


THE  MAN  AND  THE  HYENA       173 

quietly  unloosed  it,  and  suddenly  fell  on  the  impertinent 
little  cubs,  and  cut  the  throats  of  each  one  of  them.  Then 
he  crept  out  of  the  hole,  and  swiftly  climbed  up  a  neighbour- 
ing tree.  From  this  vantage-point  he  saw  the  hyenas  return, 
and  heard  their  consternation  when  they  entered  the  hole 
and  found  all  their  little  ones  dead,  and  the  man  gone. 
He  saw  them  creep  out  of  the  hole,  and  fly  in  terror  to  the 
bush. 

"  So  he  got  down  from  the  tree  and  came  dancing  home 
with  his  knife  in  his  hand,  and  singing  a  new  song  he  com- 
posed, with  the  refrain,  '  chimai  chanc  '  (my  knife).  And 
to-day  his  name  is  'chimai  chanc,'  you  will  find  him  at 
Lombwa  village  if  you  go  there." 

When  he  finishes  there  is  a  half  incredulous  laugh,  but 
some  shout  that  they  know  the  man,  and  it  so  happened, 
really.    His  name  is  proof  of  the  truth. 

I  turn  them  now  to  real  fables,  and  ask  them  if  they 
know  any  stories  like  our  children's  fables,  telling  them  the 
story  of  Red  Riding  Hood.  Before  I  have  finished,  some  of 
them  cry  they  know  a  story  just  the  same.  "  Well,  tell 
it,"  I  answer.    And  here  it  is. 

"  There  was  once  a  little  girl  who  was  very  fond  of  dancing. 
She  lived  alone  with  her  grandmother,  and  every  night  when 
the  dark  fell,  she  used  to  go  to  the  nearest  village  where 
there  was  a  dance,  and  sport  with  the  others  far  into  the 
night.  Then  she  would  go  home,  and  knocking  at  the  door 
of  the  grandmother's  hut  she  would  sing  : 

"  Open  to  me,  open  to  me,  grandmother. 
It  is  I,  indeed  it  is  I.'' 

(Here  the  reciter  sings  this  little  chorus,  and  all  the 
listeners  join  in,  going  over  it  twice  or  thrice.) 

"  Now  there  was  a  wicked  hyena  that  used  often  to  be 
lurking  in  the  neighbouring  bush,  looking  for  a  meal  that 
would  be  easy  and  safe  to  snatch.    And  he  heard  the  little 


174  AN  AFRICAN  RED  RIDING  HOOD 

girl  come  night  by  night  all  alone,  and  knock  at  the  hut 
door,  and  it  was  immediately  opened  when  she  sang  : 

"Open  to  me,  open  to  me,  grandmother, 
It  is  I,  indeed  it  is  I." 

(The  audience  again  sings — and  so  on  throughout.) 

"  So  the  hyena  decided  that  here  was  an  easy  way  to  get 
a  capital  supper,  without  any  fear.  And  next  night  when  he 
saw  the  little  girl  go  off  to  the  dance,  he  waited  till  the 
grandmother  was  sound  asleep,  and  then  he  came  and  knocked 
at  the  door,  and  in  his  harsh  screaming  voice  he  said  : 

"  Open  to  me,  open  to  me,  grandmother. 
It  is  I,  indeed  it  is  I." 

"  But  the  grandmother  started  out  of  her  sleep  and 
cried,  '  Who's  that  at  the  door  ?  That  is  not  the  voice  of 
my  little  grandchild.  It  is  too  harsh.'  And  she  would  not 
open,  so  the  hyena  went  away  disappointed.  Later  on  the 
girl  came  herself  and  knocked,  and  sang  with  her  little 

shrill  voice  : 

"Open  to  me,  open  to  me,  grandmother, 
It  is  I,  indeed  it  is  I.'' 

"  And  immediately  the  old  woman  rose  and  let  her  in. 
And  when  she  sat  down,  the  grannie  said  ; 

" '  I  was  afraid  to-night,  granddaughter.  Something 
with  a  loud,  harsh  voice  came  to  the  door,  and  sang  your 
song.  I  fear  there  is  a  wild  beast  near  that  will  kill  you  if 
you  come  home  so  late  every  night.' 

"  '  Oh,  nothing  can  harm  me,'  said  the  girl,  '  I  go  every 
night  to  dance,  and  I  know  the  way.  Who  could  do  me 
hurt  ?  ' 

"  But  the  hyena,  when  he  found  he  could  not  modulate 
his  great  voice  went  off  to  a  mosquito,  and  asked  him  to 
come  and  sing  at  the  door,  and  then  they  would  both  get 
inside.    To  this  the  mosquito  at  once  agreed. 


AN  AFRICAN  RED  RIDING  HOOD  175 

"  So  next  night  they  watched  the  girl  go  off  to  her  dance, 
and  after  waiting  some  time,  they  both  went  to  the  hut,  and 
the  hyena  knocked  at  the  door,  and  the  mosquito  took  up 
the  song  in  its  high  pitch  : 

''Open  to  me,  open  to  me,  grandmother. 
It  is  I,  indeed  it  is  I." 

"  Then  the  old  woman  hearing  the  shrill  little  song 
thought  her  granddaughter  had  returned,  and  opened  the 
door,  and  in  leaped  the  hyena,  and  slew  her  and  ate  her  up. 
Gorged  with  his  feast  he  lay  down  on  her  mat,  and  waited 
for  the  return  of  the  girl.  By  and  by  there  came  the 
knock  at  the  door,  and  the  little  song  : 

"  Open  to  me,  open  to  me,  grandmother. 
It  is  I,  indeed  it  is  I.'^ 

"  And  the  hyena  rose  and  opened  the  door  and  let  the 
child  in.  It  was  dark  in  the  house,  for  the  flames  of  the  wood 
fire  had  died  down,  and  there  was  only  a  little  red  glare. 
So  the  girl  sat  down  on  her  mat  suspecting  nothing.  But 
presently,  she  saw  a  splash  of  something  wet  on  the  floor, 
and  she  cried,  '  Grannie,  grannie,  what  have  you  spilt  ?  ' 
But  the  hyena  said  nothing.  Then  the  girl  thinking  her 
grandmother  was  asleep,  rose  to  wake  her.  She  caught 
the  beast  and  shook  it,  saying,  '  Grannie,  grannie,  what's 
this  on  the  floor  ?  '  And  the  hyena  stretched  out  his  strong 
paws  and  drew  her  to  him,  and  killed  her." 

It  is  characteristic  of  the  somewhat  untender  minds  of 
the  little  Africans  that  this  tragic  story  is  a  funny  one  to 
them.  I  once  tried  to  tell  it  to  a  little  white  girl,  but  there 
was  such  a  flood  of  tears  at  the  death  of  the  grandmother, 
that  I  had  to  contrive  a  miraculous  deliverance  for  the  girl, 
and  a  resurrection  of  the  grandmother  before  I  could  close 
the  story  for  my  little  white  audience. 

When  this  tale  is  told,  I  call  now  for  a  story  of  a  hare, 


176       THE  STORY  OF  THE  HARE 

and  at  once  a  dozen  voices  are  raised,  each  one  with  his 
favourite  fable  on  the  tip  of  his  tongue.  So  I  select  one 
man,  and  at  once  he  starts  off  with  the  preface,  "  Hare. 
Hare.  There  was  once  a  hare  that  came  to  the  river's  bank 
and  there  met  a  great  hippopotamus. 

"  '  I  can  pull  you,'  cried  the  cheeky  little  hare  to  the  river 
monster. 

"  '  You  !  '  cried  the  hippopotamus,  with  a  great  guffaw. 
'  I  cannot  see  you,  you  little  creature.' 

"  '  But  I  am  stronger  than  you,  nevertheless,  and  I'll 
pull  you  on  to  dry  land.' 

"  '  Well,  let  us  try,'  laughed  the  hippopotamus. 

"  '  To-morrow  I  shall  grind  my  meal,'  answered  the  hare  ; 
'  and  when  I  have  eaten  it,  I  shall  be  so  strong  I  shall  beat 
you.  I  shall  come  on  the  third  day  with  a  rope,  and  then 
we  shall  both  pull.' 

"  '  All  right,'  answered  the  hippopotamus,  '  I'll  be  ready.' 

"So  off  scampered  the  hare.  Next  day  he  met  a  great 
rhinoceros  in  the  bush  near  the  river,  and  he  cried  out : 

"  '  I  am  stronger  than  you.     Let  us  have  a  tug-of-war.' 

"  But  the  rhinoceros  stood  amazed,  and  answered  : 

"  '  If  I  were  to  try  my  strength  with  yours,  you  would  be 
smashed  to  atoms.' 

"  '  Well,  to-morrow,  we  shall  try,'  said  the  hare. 

"  On  the  third  day  the  hare  appeared  at  the  river's  bank 
with  a  great  rope,  and  called  on  the  hippopotamus. 

"  '  Well,  are  you  read}^  ?  Here  is  a  rope,  tie  it  to  your 
leg,  and  I  shall  go  away  into  the  bush  with  the  other  end, 
and  stand  on  that  far  ant-hill.  And  when  I  cry  "  Pull,"  you 
shall  pull  with  all  your  might,  and  see  who  is  the  stronger.' 

"  '  Very  well,'  said  the  hippopotamus,  and  he  tied  the 
rope-end  to  his  great  hind-leg. 

"  Then  the  hare  ran  off  into  the  thick  scrub,  and  presently 
met  the  rhinoceros  at  the  appointed  place. 

"  '  Here  we  are,'  said  the  hare,  '  tie  this  rope-end  to  your 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  HARE        177 

hind-leg,  and  I  shall  tie  the  other  end  to  mine,  and  when  I 
cry  from  the  ant-hill,  you  are  to  pull  with  all  your  might.' 

"  So  with  a  monstrous  grin  the  rhinoceros  tied  the  rope 
to  his  leg  while  the  hare  skipped  off  to  the  ant-hill. 

"  '  Now  pull,'  he  shouted. 

"  The  hippo  at  one  end,  and  the  rhino  at  the  other  both 
gave  the  rope  a  gentle  pull,  afraid  to  hurt  their  confident  little 
friend.  But  they  were  both  rather  shocked  at  its  immobility, 
so  they  pulled  a  little  harder,  and  then  still  harder. 

"  '  What's  this  ?  '  cried  the  rhino.  '  What  a  power  the 
creature  has  !  ' 

"  '  My  eye  !  '  groaned  the  hippo,  '  the  little  thing  can 
pull  !  ' 

"  So  they  bent  their  backs,  and  put  their  wills  into  the 
tug.  The  sweat  was  pouring  down  the  rhino's  folded  skin. 
Amazement  at  the  hare's  strength,  and  indignation  at  the 
thought  of  being  beaten,  battled  together  beneath  his  mighty 
hide.  He  began  to  lose  ground.  His  feet  slipped,  and 
bit  by  bit  he  was  pulled  and  dragged  till  he  got  to  the  water's 
edge.  Then  he  turned  round  to  look  at  the  little  wonder  that 
had  beaten  him,  but  no  hare  was  visible,  only  a  huge  hij^po- 
potamus  far  out  in  the  shallow  water  puffing,  and  blowing, 
and  straining  every  muscle. 

"  '  Hullo,  you  there  ! '  cried  the  rhino,  '  what  are  you 
pulling  ?  ' 

"  '  A  hare,'  bellowed  the  straining  hippo. 

"  '  You're  not.  You're  tugging  me,'  screamed  the  in- 
dignant rhino. 

"  And  round  the  hippo  turned,  and  saw  in  place  of  the 
miraculous  hare,  a  perspiring  rhino  with  a  rope  tied  to  his 
leg." 

When  this  story  has  been  told,  I  wait  to  hear  a  moral 
fable  which  teaches  some  lesson  of  conduct,  and  one  is 
soon  forthcoming.    And  here  it  is  : 

"  Kamzunguzeni  went  out  to  hunt  along  with  his  son-in- 

M 


178         A  STORY  WITH  A  MORAL 

law.  All  day  they  tramped  through  the  wood,  but  could 
find  no  trace  of  game.  At  length,  when  they  were  utterly 
wearied  with  the  long  search,  and  disappointment,  they 
come  upon  the  footprint  of  a  buffalo.  But  the  spoor  was  old, 
perhaps  more  than  a  year  old,  so  it  told  them  nothing  of 
value.  The  old  man  turned  away  disgusted,  and  Avas  going 
to  make  for  home,  when  the  son  stopped,  and  cried  : 

"  '  Stand  !    I'll  slay  the  beast !  ' 

" '  We  cannot  cat  a  footprint,'  said  Kamzunguzeni. 
'  It's  more  than  a  year  since  the  buffalo  passed  here.' 

"  '  Stand,  and  see,'  cried  the  son. 

"  And  he  took  his  bow,  and  putting  an  arrow  on  the 
string,  shot  with  all  his  power,  and  the  arrow  struck  deep 
into  the  old  spoor. 

"  '  Now  run,  and  cut  up  the  carcase,'  cried  the  young 
man. 

"  '  What  carcase  ?  '  asked  the  father. 

"  '  There  it  is  ahead  of  us,'  and  the  young  man  ran  on  a 
few  hundred  yards,  and  there  was  a  fat  buffalo  lying  dead 
with  an  arrow  in  its  heart. 

"  '  Ah,  me  !  what  kind  of  man  is  this  son-in-law  of  mine  ?  ' 
sighed  Kamzunguzeni.  '  He  shoots  at  an  old  footprint, 
and  a  living  buffalo  falls  down  dead.' 

"  After  cutting  out  some  choice  pieces  of  meat,  and  putting 
them  in  their  bags,  they  turned  towards  home  that  they 
might  call  out  their  fellow-villagers  to  carry  in  the  flesh. 
But  the  way  was  long,  and  they  were  hungry  and  faint. 

"  '  Oh,  that  we  could  find  some  honey  !  '  exclaimed  the 
son.  And  he  had  scarcely  said  the  word,  when  a  sound  of 
bees  was  heard  in  the  tree-tops.  They  peered  up  and  saw 
them  clustering  about  a  hole  in  a  tall  tree  which  had  no 
branches. 

However  shall  we  get  the  honey  ?  '  said  the  son. 
*  There  are  no  branches  to  help  us  to  climb.  And  we  cannot 
make  a  ladder.' 


A  STORY  WITH  A  MORAL         179 

"  '  I'll  get  the  honey,'  answered  the  old  man. 

"  He  stepped  up  to  the  tree,  and  caught  the  stem  with 
his  hands,  and  then,  oh  horror  !  his  head  and  shoulders 
sprang  up  to  the  top  of  the  tree  while  his  feet  stood  still 
upon  the  ground.  With  his  hands  he  gathered  all  the 
honey  out  of  the  hollow  trunk,  and  then  suddenly  collapsed 
like  a  concertina,  his  shoulders  fitting  perfectly  to  his 
body. 

"  They  ate  the  honey  together,  and  felt  new  men. 

"  '  Now,'  said  Kamzunguzeni  to  his  son-in-law,  '  you 
will  say  nothing  to  the  people  at  home  about  what  you 
have  seen.    Do  not  even  tell  your  wife.' 

"  '  All  right,'  answered  the  son,  '  and  you  won't  tell  about 
my  miraculous  shoot.' 

"  So  they  went  home,  and  called  the  village  to  follow 
them  next  morning  to  the  dead  buffalo. 

"  That  night  as  the  son  and  his  wife  were  sitting  together 
in  their  hut,  the  young  man  was  in  a  brown-study.  '  Alas  ! 
alas  !  '  he  sighed. 

What's  wrong  ?  '  asked  his  wife. 
Oh,  nothing.' 

"  '  Something  is  wrong.    You  sighed,  alas  !    alas  !  ' 
Did  I  ?     I  did  not  mean  anything.' 

"  '  But  you  did.    Tell  me  what  is  wrong.' 

Well,'  said  the  pressed  husband.  '  I  cannot  under- 
stand your  father.  What  kind  of  man  is  he  ?  But  you  must 
not  tell  any  one.' 

"  '  Of  course,  I  won't.  What's  troubling  you  about  my 
father  ?  ' 

" '  Your  father's  a  wonder.  We  were  coming  home 
together  very  hungry  and  tired,  and  we  saw  some  bees  buzzing 
at  the  top  of  a  tall  tree.  We  did  not  know  how  to  get  at 
the  honey.  But  your  father  caught  hold  of  the  trunk,  and 
up  went  his  head  and  shoulders ' 

"  '  Oh  !  oh  !  !  oh  !  !  !  '  cried  the  wife,  for  at  these  words 


180         A  STORY  WITH  A  MORAL 

the  head  and  shoulders  of  her  husband  had  parted  company 
with  his  body,  and  were  floating  about  at  the  roof  of  the 
hut. 

"  She  flung  herself  on  the  floor,  and  began  to  wail  bitterly 
and  loudly.  A  neighbour,  hearing  the  death-wail,  came 
hurriedly  into  the  hut,  and  there  saw  the  husband's  upper 
parts  stuck  about  the  roof  of  the  hut,  and  the  wife  crying 
beside  his  legs  on  the  floor. 

"  '  What's  the  matter  ?  '  shrieked  the  neighbour. 

"  '  Oh,  I  don't  know.  My  husband  was  telling  me  that 
he  and  my  father  were  coming  home  tired  and  hungry,  and 
they  saw  bees  buzzing  about  the  top  of  a  tree.  And  my 
father  caught  hold  of  the  trunk,  when  suddenly  up  went  his 
head ' 

"  '  Oh  !  Oh  !  !  Oh  !  !  !  '  shrieked  the  neighbour,  for 
suddenly  the  head  and  shoulders  of  the  wife  had  separated 
from  her  body  and  flown  to  the  roof. 

"  Her  cries  roused  other  villagers,  who  ran  out  and  met 
her  at  the  hut  door,  terror-stricken.  Within  the  hut  they 
could  see  the  headless  bodies,  and  they  urged  her  to  tell 
what  had  happened.  She  began  to  tell  them,  but  she  had 
only  got  to  the  beginning  of  the  miraculous  parting,  when 
suddenly  up  went  her  head  and  shoulders,  and  floated  about 
above  the  village.  A  great  wailing  immediately  arose, 
and  it  was  heard  in  a  neighbouring  village,  whose  inhabitants 
came  running  along  to  find  out  what  was  the  matter. 
Everyone  began  to  tell  his  neighbour  the  story,  but  as  soon 
as  he  came  to  the  critical  part,  up  went  his  head,  until  at 
last  the  air  was  full  of  floating  heads  and  shoulders. 

"  At  last  the  only  survivor  went  to  Kamzunguzeni's 
hut,  and  found  the  old  man  there  peaceably  asleep.  He 
told  him  what  had  happened  outside,  and  when  he  crept  out 
and  saw  it  all  with  his  own  eyes,  he  said, '  You  see  what  comes 
of  telling  tales  that  were  not  meant  to  be  told.' 

"  So  he  got  some  medicine,  and  sprinkled  it  on  the  dis- 


A  STORY  WITH  A  MORAL         181 

severed  bodies,  and  down  came  the  heads  and  shoulders, 
each  one  to  its  proper  body. 

"'Now,'  said  Kamzunguzeni,  'learn  your  lesson,  and  do 
not  go  relating  to  one  another  secrets  you  were  forbidden 
to  tell.'  " 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

MODIFICATIONS 

A  GOOD  deal  of  what  has  been  related  in  the  previous 
chapters  belongs  only  to  the  past.  Customs, 
■  possessions,  religion,  are  all  rapidly  changing,  and 
a  composite  race  moulded  by  foreign  influences  has  taken 
the  place  of  the  prehistoric  Tumbuka.  In  tracing  some  of 
the  essential  changes,  one  observes  the  influence  of  contact 
with  two  stronger  peoples.  The  first  of  these  is  the  Ngoni. 
Their  influence  on  the  Tumbuka  has  been  vital  and  pene- 
trating, markedly  affecting  their  social  and  physical 
characteristics.  When  they  came  upon  the  Tumbuka  this 
tribe  had  already  degenerated  into  a  host  of  incohesive 
fragments,  and  had  lost  much  of  that  social  loyalty  and 
unity  which  are  necessary  for  the  existence  of  a  primitive 
people.  It  was  welded  again  by  the  Ngoni  into  an  orderly 
and  loyal  community ;  but  the  authority  which  they 
acknowledged  is  that  of  their  usurpers,  and  gradually  they 
have  absorbed  a  good  many  of  their  social  customs.  At 
first,  the  Tumbuka  lived  in  large  Ngoni  villages,  and  many 
of  the  girls  were  taken  by  the  masters  as  wives,  and  so  the 
blood  of  the  races  has  been  much  mixed.  The  Tumbuka 
people  were  dark  and  of  a  somewhat  weakly  and  fleshy 
physique.  The  Ngoni,  especially  those  of  Swazi  and  Suto 
origin,  were  lighter  in  colour,  and  with  erect,  robust  bodies, 
tall  and  athletic.  One  sees  now  a  great  improvement  in  the 
strength  and  build  of  the  composite  race,  and  along  with 
very  dark-skinned  people  will  be  seen  men  and  women  of 

182 


INFLUENCE  OF  THE  NGONI       183 

a  light  chocolate  colour.  The  old  markings  of  large 
cicatrices  on  the  forehead,  and  long  cuts  down  the  cheek  are 
only  to  be  seen  on  the  old  people  who  were  conquered  in 
their  youth.  All  the  younger  generation  have  unscarred  faces, 
and  large  holes  in  the  lobes  of  their  ears. 

Many  of  the  more  degenerate  sports  and  of  the  worship- 
habits  of  the  people  were  also  suppressed  by  the  Ngoni. 
Some  were  reckoned  to  be  immoral,  and  others  to  express 
too  obtrusively  loyalty  to  the  old  Tumbuka  race,  and  so 
were  not  allowed  to  be  practised.  Thus  many  of  the  dances 
were  forbidden.  The  little  temples  to  the  spirits  of  the 
ancestors  were  seldom  built,  but  worship  was  performed 
after  the  manner  of  the  Ngoni.  Some  of  the  hunting  customs 
were  retained  as  they  provided  food  and  wealth  for  the 
masters,  and  all  the  Tumbuka  were  taught  the  use  of  the 
spear,  and  initiated  into  the  practice  of  disciplined  warfare. 
The  smelting  furnaces  were  revived,  as  the  demand  for 
weapons  was  great.  Agricultural  instruments  such  as  hoes 
were  made  after  the  fashion  of  the  Tumbuka,  for  they  being 
the  slave  population  were  the  tillers  of  the  soil,  and  the 
Ngoni  being  a  nomadic  people,  brought  no  such  implements 
with  them.  The  main  architectural  features  of  the  Tumbuka 
huts  were  also  retained,  the  Ngoni  only  introducing  a  few 
improvements  such  as  the  rolling  of  the  floors  into  a  fine 
polished  surface,  the  orderly  arrangement  of  the  huts  around 
the  central  cattle-kraal,  and  the  precedence  of  these  huts. 

Some  of  the  Ngoni  dances  were  adopted  by  the  entire 
people.  Especially  is  this  the  case  with  the  war-dances,  and 
those  rhythmical  processions,  which  celebrate  the  killing  of 
a  leopard  or  a  lion.  The  ingoma,  a  daylight  competitive 
dance,  which  formed  one  of  the  chief  exercises  of  the  Ngoni 
in  the  cold  season,  has  become  a  common  habit  of  the  whole 
people,  and  many  of  the  songs  which  are  sung  at  it  are  pure 
Chitumbuka.  The  Ngoni  marriage  customs  were  also 
adopted,  especially  in  the  matter  of  dowry  payments,  and 


184       INFLUENCE  OF  THE  NGONI 

now  it  is  an  uncommon  thing  for  even  a  Tumbuka  girl  to  be 
given  in  marriage  until  at  least  two  or  three  cattle  have  been 
paid  by  the  bridegroom.  There  are  certain  evils  in  the 
system  such  as  the  bartering  of  girls  to  men  for  whom  little 
love  is  felt,  but  who  have  made  an  attractive  payment  of 
dowry  to  the  parents.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  there  are 
strong  safeguards  to  social  morality,  which  are  wholly  good 
in  a  primitive  society,  where  the  Christian  conscience  and 
strong  social  laws  are  not  yet  acknowledged.  When  the 
price  demanded  for  a  girl  is  high,  a  considerable  obstacle 
to  polygamy  is  formed,  especially  for  those  who  are  not  rich 
in  cattle.  The  husband  who  has  paid  a  large  sum  for  his 
wife  reckons  her  a  more  permanent  and  precious  possession 
which  he  is  unwilling  to  lose.  Her  premature  death  may 
mean  not  only  her  loss,  and,  perhaps,  if  blame  can  be 
attached  to  him,  the  payment  of  further  cattle  to  the 
parents,  but  he  cannot  get  another  wife  without  paying  for 
her  also.  And  as  a  wife  may  leave  her  husband,  and  he  have 
no  claim  on  the  dowry,  if  he  has  been  cruel  to  her,  or 
neglectful,  she  too  has  a  strong  claim  on  his  clemency  and 
good  behaviour  by  the  price  which  was  paid  for  her. 

The  old  Ngoni  custom  forbade  early  marriages.  Men  were 
not  allowed  to  marry  until  they  had  proved  themselves  in 
war  ;  and  girls  remained  single  until  they  were  fully  de- 
veloped women.  The  Tumbuka,  on  the  other  hand,  married 
within  a  year  of  puberty.  At  first  these  early  marriages 
were  suppressed  by  the  Ngoni,  but  gradually  the  restrictions 
have  relapsed,  and  the  only  delay  is  that  occasioned  by  a 
man  having  to  work  for  a  sufficient  dowry  before  he  can 
claim  a  wife.  This  has  meant  that  the  people  have  reverted 
to  much  too  early  marriages,  and  the  result  has  not  been 
good. 

Possibly  the  worst  habit  which  the  Tumbuka  have  taught 
their  Ngoni  masters,  and  which  has  been  only  too  thoroughly 
learned  by  them,  is  that  of  beer-drinking.    When  the  Ngoni 


BEER-DRINKING  185 

came  into  this  land  they  did  not  drink  much,  and  riotous 
drunkenness  was  despised.  The  young  men  and  girls  were 
very  seldom  allowed  to  taste  beer,  although  it  was  not  very 
heady.  The  Tumbuka,  on  the  other  hand,  knew  the  art  of 
brewing  from  a  small  millet  seed  a  very  intoxicating  beer, 
which  was  maddening  in  its  effects.  This  beer,  though  not 
in  so  strong  a  form,  has  now  become  the  drink  of  the  entire 
tribe,  and  none  are  so  drunken  as  the  Ngoni  masters.  Young 
people  and  even  children  are  now  allowed  to  drink  to 
intoxication,  and  practically  the  only  abstainers  are  those 
who  have  come  under  the  influence  of  the  schools.  Morals 
have  become  distinctly  looser  than  were  those  of  the  pure 
Ngoni.  I  do  not  for  a  moment  profess  that  the  Ngoni  were 
a  very  moral  people.  Murdering  and  plundering  were  the 
trade  of  the  tribe,  but  breaches  of  the  seventh  and  eighth 
commandments  within  their  own  villages  were  punished 
with  the  utmost  severity,  death,  and  frequently  death  by 
hideous  torture,  being  the  common  penalty.  Parents  also 
maintained  a  strict  control  over  their  children.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  social  morality  of  the  Tumbuka  was  very  low,  and 
the  marriage  tie  easily  broken.  The  two  tribes  have  reacted 
on  one  another  in  this  moral  sphere,  with  the  result  that, 
while  the  composite  people  may  exhibit  a  distinctly  higher 
type  than  that  found  among  most  Central  African  tribes, 
and  than  that  which  obtained  among  the  old  Tumbuka, 
they  do  not  nearly  approach  the  strictness  of  the  old  Ngoni, 
and  the  old  men  complain  to-day  that  the  ancient  domestic 
purity,  honesty,  and  obedience  have  disappeared  before  the 
insidious  effects  of  Tumbuka  influence. 

In  social  wealth  the  Ngoni  have  greatly  enriched  the  land. 
When  they  came  the  main  source  of  riches  among  the 
Tumbuka  was  the  ivory,  which  they  traded  to  Biza  and 
Swahili  merchants  for  miserably  small  prices.  When  the 
Ngoni  arrived  they  found  huge  stocks  of  ivory  in  some 
villages,  and  so  ignorant  were  they  of  the  value  of  these, 


186  CATTLE  AND  SHEEP 

they  actually  used  them  as  fuel,  and  thus  consumed 
great  quantities.  This  ignorant  extravagance  was  soon 
stopped  when  some  Swahili  traders  appeared  in  the  country 
and  bought  what  tusks  they  could  find  for  cloth,  but  the 
supply  of  elephants  soon  diminished,  and  to-day  they  are 
seldom  seen  within  Ngoniland. 

The  Tumbuka  owned  a  few  cattle  and  goats,  but  had  no 
sheep.  These  cattle  were  all  confiscated  by  the  conquerors. 
Enormous  herds  gathered  from  tribes  scattered  over  the 
entire  line  of  the  Ngoni  incursion  were  introduced,  some  of 
these  animals  being  of  a  much  larger  breed  than  the  Central 
African  types,  and  nearly  all  having  the  large  hump  and 
long  dewlap  which  the  Ngoni  love  to  see.  Thus  a  distinct 
improvement  in  the  breed  of  cattle  was  introduced,  and  the 
numbers  multiplied  a  hundredfold.  Besides  these,  sheep 
were  also  brought  from  the  north,  and  were  then  seen  by 
the  Tumbuka  for  the  first  time. 

At  first  all  this  increase  of  stock  was  simply  a  gain  to  the 
masters.  But  when  the  bondage  of  serfdom  ceased  to 
suppress  individual  rights,  the  slaves  began  to  accumulate 
cattle,  by  their  industry,  or  as  dowry  for  their  daughters. 
And  to-day  most  of  the  industrious  and  careful  people  own 
goats,  sheep,  or  cattle.  Unfortunately  this  stock  has  had 
to  fight  a  constant  series  of  devastating  diseases.  Rinder- 
pest has  swept  through  the  tribe  on  its  irresistible  march 
south,  claimed  tens  of  thousands  of  cattle,  and  emptied  the 
land  of  forest  game.  There  is,  however,  a  marvellous 
recuperative  power  in  Africa  in  spite  of  its  constant  plagues, 
and  to-day  there  are  as  many  cattle  as  ever,  and  the  owner- 
ship is  better  distributed. 

In  the  matter  of  language  the  reaction  of  the  two  peoples 
on  one  another  is  very  interesting.  Both  languages  belong 
to  the  great  Bantu  group,  and  Chingoni  or  Zulu  is  more 
closely  allied  to  the  Nyasaland  dialects  than  many  of  the 
languages  of  the  central  tribes  of  South  Africa,  for  it  belongs 


LANGUAGE  187 

to  those  races  which  entered  South  Africa  by  an  eastern 
migration,  possibly  passing  through  Nyasaland  on  the  way. 
Indeed,  the  resemblance  between  some  of  the  South  African 
languages,  especially  that  of  the  Karanga  and  the  dialects 
of  Nyasaland,  is  so  close  that  one  must  refer  these  widely- 
separated  people  to  a  common  origin  at  no  very  distant 
date  in  the  past. 

When  one  compares  Chingoni  with  Zulu  the  differences 
visible  are  almost  entirely  those  which  have  come  by 
Tumbuka  influences,  just  as  the  Chingoni  of  the  Magwan- 
gwara  on  the  east  side  of  the  Lake  has  been  modified  by 
Swahili  influences.  The  inflections  of  the  nouns  and  the 
main  formations  of  the  verbs  remain  unchanged.  But  the 
pronoun  forms  in  the  verb  have  altered  somewhat  to  those 
of  the  Tumbuka.  Thus,  they  now  use  ni  instead  of 
ngi  for  the  first  person  singular,  and  mu  instead  of  ni 
for  the  second  person  plural.  And,  of  course,  a  great 
number  of  Tumbuka  words  have  been  adopted  into  the 
vocabulary. 

But  if  the  local  dialects  have  influenced  Chingoni,  it  has 
in  turn  greatly  enriched  them.  The  Ngoni  words  for  the 
cattle-kraal,  for  the  war  organization,  and  for  the  civil 
powers,  and  especially  their  expressions  of  courtesy  have 
been  largely  adopted  by  the  local  people. 

The  Tumbuka  had  no  special  form  of  greeting  when  friends 
met.  They  all  now  have  adopted  the  Ngoni  form  "  We  see 
thee,"  but  with  this  difference,  that  the  plural  pronoun  for 
the  person  addressed  is  used.  In  most  Central  African 
languages  this  is  a  sign  of  respect,  whereas  in  Chingoni  the 
singular  is  equally  courteous.  In  Tumbuka  to  address  a 
person  as  "  thee  "  would  show  a  lack  of  reverence,  so  when 
the  people  salute  to-day,  they  say,  "  Timwoneni,"  "  We  see 
you,"  There  was  no  common  form  of  thanking  among  the 
Tumbuka.  The  Ngoni,  on  the  other  hand,  shout  "  E,"  or 
"  Yebo  "  (yes),  and  the  surname  of  the  person  thanked, 


188  THE  THANK-NAME 

which  is  called  his  thank-name.  The  Tumbuka  have  all 
adopted  a  thank-name,  taking  the  clan-name  of  their  grand- 
parents, or  the  country  from  which  they  came,  as  their 
thank-name.  And  when  thanks  are  given,  or  when  a  man  is 
respectfully  addressed,  it  is  by  this  surname.  The  old 
Tumbuka  courtesy  of  rubbing  the  forehead  on  the  dust,  or 
rolling  on  the  back,  before  a  chief,  or  other  person  worthy 
of  reverence,  has  almost  entirely  disappeared.  Now  the 
people  use  the  Ngoni  form  of  sitting  down,  and  waiting  to 
be  addressed  by  the  superior,  and  expressing  respect  by 
bowing  the  body  and  slightly  clapping  the  hands. 

The  intention  of  the  Ngoni  was  evidently  to  suppress  all 
other  languages  and  make  their  own  the  only  one.  They 
had  already  passed  through  so  many  tribes  with  widely 
varying  tongues,  and  their  residence  among  them  had  been 
for  so  short  a  time,  that  they  had  scorned  to  speak  the  local 
dialects  ;  and  when  they  came  to  Tumbuka  country,  they 
absorbed  such  numbers  of  the  varied  tribes  that  surrounded 
them,  that  a  Babel  of  languages  was  spoken  by  the  slave 
population.  There  were  Chewa,  Tumbuka,  Tonga,  Senga, 
and  various  other  forms  of  Nyasaland  language  spoken  by 
these  subjugated  people,  and  rather  than  give  up  what  they 
reckoned,  and  rightly  reckoned,  a  stately  language  for  any 
of  the  spluttering,  clipped,  and  effeminate-sounding  dialects 
of  the  surrounding  peoples,  they  compelled  them  to  master 
Chingoni.  In  all  the  conversation  of  the  rulers,  and  all  the 
court  cases,  Chingoni  alone  was  spoken.  To  this  day  many 
of  the  old  Ngoni  men  and  women  profess  to  be  unable  either 
to  speak  or  to  understand  the  local  language.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  poor  ignorant  slave  women  could  not  learn 
this  masterful  language  with  its  clicks,  and  dental  linguals, 
and  continued  to  speak  among  themselves  and  to  their 
children  the  language  of  their  own  people,  and  as  the  children 
first  learned  to  speak  from  the  lips  of  their  mothers,  they 
acquired  the  speech  of  Central  Africa  rather  than  that  of 


CHINGONl  189 

south  of  the  Zambesi,  for  the  Ngoni  women  were  but  a  small 
portion  of  the  nation. 

Afterwards,  when  the  strong  power  of  the  spear  was 
broken,  and  the  rulers  no  longer  exercised  an  undisputed 
sway  over  their  people,  villages  began  to  break  up  into 
congenial  groups.  Numbers  of  Tumbuka  or  other  local 
head  men  were  allowed  to  form  their  own  villages,  and  to 
move  into  the  neighbouring  untilled  lands  to  open  up  new 
gardens  for  their  masters,  and  send  them  a  regular  supply 
of  the  beer  grain.  The  result  was  that  the  Ngoni  atmosphere 
no  longer  predominated  in  these  villages,  and  the  Tumbuka 
tongue  and  customs  began  to  assert  themselves.  The 
temples  to  the  spirits  of  the  ancestors  were  built  again,  the 
suppressed  dances  were  revived,  and  the  language  spoken 
began  to  be  more  and  more  the  old  language  of  the  soil. 
To-day  while  a  few  villages  still  retain  Chingoni  as  the 
common  speech,  there  are  large  districts  in  which  it  is  an 
unusual  thing  to  find  even  an  old  Ngoni  who  speaks  the  pure 
language  of  his  fathers,  and  one  seldom  hears  it  from  the 
lips  of  a  young  person.  When  Chingoni  is  still  used  in 
village  lawsuits,  etc.,  it  is  usually  debased  by  an  admixture 
of  Chitumbuka.  Since  large  numbers  of  young  men  began 
to  go  to  the  South  African  mines  for  work,  there  has  been 
a  slight  attempt  to  revive  the  language  of  the  south,  but 
this  has  only  produced  a  temporary  flicker.  One  seldom 
hears  it  on  the  road  or  in  the  village,  except  from  a  few  of 
the  old  aristocrats,  or  in  brag  and  jest  from  one's  carriers, 
though  then  it  takes  the  form  of  that  awful  bastard  language, 
"  Kitchen  Kaffir,"  used  by  their  European  masters  at  the 
mines. 

The  other  race  whose  contact  with  these  people  has 
modified  their  characteristics  is  the  European.  The  white 
men's  influence  has  been  altogether  out  of  proportion  to 
their  numbers,  and  while  this  book  really  describes  in  detail 
some  of  the  conscious  efforts  that  have  been  made  to  alter 


190  EUROPEAN  INFLUENCE 

the  civilization  and  religion  of  the  people,  it  is  well  to 
mention  some  of  the  permanent  modifications  which  have 
necessarily  and  perhaps  unintentionally  followed  on  the 
presence  of  Europeans  among  them. 

There  are  only  eight  European  men  and  six  ladies  in  the 
land.  For  about  fifteen  years  the  only  Europeans  were  the 
missionaries,  although  occasionally  a  trader  or  visitor  passed 
through.  Since  then  there  has  come  a  European  agent  of 
the  African  Lakes  Corporation,  and  a  Nyasaland  and  a 
Rhodesian  Government  station  have  been  opened,  for  the 
boundary  line  between  these  two  administrations  unfor- 
tunately cuts  through  Ngoniland.  The  class  of  Europeans 
who  have  been  in  contact  with  the  natives  in  their  own  land 
has  been  an  unusually  high  one.  We  have  no  derelict 
whites,  or  men  who  do  not  recognize  that  large  responsi- 
bilities are  involved  in  their  residence  here.  There  are  no 
half-caste  children,  and  there  has  been  no  prostitution  of 
native  women.  Happily,  there  never  have  been  resident 
Arabs  or  coast-men  in  the  tribe,  and  only  in  recent  years 
have  there  come  a  few  East  Indians  in  charge  of  native 
stores.  Prostitution  is  one  of  the  curses  which  enter  Central 
Africa  in  the  train  of  the  white-robed  Mohammedan,  whose 
garments  are  not  the  insignia  of  bodily  purity. 

The  presence  of  the  European  cannot  be  said  to  have  in 
any  way  modified  the  physical  type  of  the  people,  except  in 
so  far  as  the  better  feeding  and  greater  cleanliness  and 
civilization  of  the  natives  themselves  have  strengthened 
and  beautified  their  bodies. 

I  am  not  aware  that  new  diseases  have  been  introduced 
by  the  European.  Smallpox  was  a  fearful  scourge  long 
before  any  white  men  appeared.  It  swept  over  the  Tumbuka 
just  before  the  coming  of  the  Ngoni  with  most  deadly  results, 
leaving  some  villages  almost  empty.  An  old  Tumbuka 
chieftainess  has  told  me  that  when  the  epidemic  passed 
through  her  father's  village,  it  left  no  men  to  herd  the  goats 


DISEASE  191 

and  cattle,  and  she  and  other  girls  had  to  do  this  work. 
It  seems  that  in  this  case  the  disease  was  carried  into  the 
country  by  an  Arab  slave  caravan,  as  so  often  happened 
in  other  parts  of  Central  Africa.  Phthisis  is  not  yet  a 
common  disease,  although  one  or  two  cases  of  it  have  been 
known  to  our  doctors,  and  there  is  grave  danger  that  it  may 
be  spread  by  natives  returning  from  the  south.  Since  the 
introduction  of  clothing  rheumatism  has  become  very 
common.  The  presence  of  the  European  and  the  lessons 
which  have  been  learned  by  hospital  treatment  seem  rather 
to  have  improved  the  health  of  the  people.  It  is  plain  that 
infant  mortality  has  greatly  decreased,  and  that  the  new 
monogamy  of  the  people  tends  to  much  larger  families. 
Many  of  the  women  in  the  Church  have  five,  six,  or  seven 
children  alive,  a  condition  which  was  entirely  unknown  in 
polygamous  and  heathen  families. 

One  hopes  that  the  presence  of  the  European  has  made 
for  a  higher  social  morality,  especially  as  in  almost  every 
European  home  there  are  a  lady  and  children.  From  them 
certain  subtle  refining  influences  are  bound  to  radiate,  for 
the  African  is  supremely  imitative,  and  the  lessons  he  learns 
by  the  eye  are  more  rapidly  assimilated  than  those  he  learns 
by  the  ear.  Yet  I  do  not  think  that  an  inarticulate  example, 
which  is  not  enforced  by  the  precepts  of  religion,  is  strong 
enough  to  overcome  the  inertia  of  the  people.  The  example 
of  home-life,  and  respect  for  women  may  be  a  daily  vision, 
but  they  are  reckoned  the  peculiarity  of  the  European,  and 
the  native  will  merely  admire  and  say  "  But  your  women 
are  not  like  ours.  We  could  not  treat  our  wives  as  you  do 
yours."  And  I  question  if  a  single  native,  by  the  influence 
of  a  silent  moral  example,  has  ever  changed  so  much  of  his 
social  customs  as  even  to  eat  along  with  his  wife.  Indeed, 
I  am  so  bold  as  to  assert  that  the  native  employees  about 
a  European  station,  unless  they  are  strictly  controlled,  and 
definitely  instructed,  become  a  moral  menace  to  the  com- 


192  LABOUR 

munity.  When  money  is  too  plentiful,  and  a  sufficient 
moral  supervision  is  not  exercised  over  men  who  are  removed 
from  the  social  restraints  of  their  own  village  life,  a  de- 
plorable condition  of  immorality  and  debauchery  is  almost 
sure  to  appear. 

The  most  apparent  influence  of  the  presence  of  the 
European  on  the  native  has  been  along  the  line  of  industrial 
and  commercial  changes.  Every  white  man  must  employ 
for  his  own  use  a  considerable  staff  of  natives  in  in- 
telligent or  more  mechanical  labour.  Intelligent  labour  is 
always  well  paid,  and  to  be  efficient  it  must  be  con- 
tinuous, and  thus  tends  to  the  development  of  general 
capacity.  The  more  mechanical  labourer  is  paid  at  a 
standard  rate  of  three  shillings  a  month,  and  for  journeys 
at  about  twopence  a  day.  This  is  wealth  to  the  native,  and 
if  his  work  is  at  all  prolonged,  he  amasses  a  sum  of  money 
in  a  year  which  provides  him  with  many  luxuries  which  the 
other  villagers  do  not  possess.  At  first  men  would  only  work 
for  short  periods,  a  month  in  the  year  being  considered  a 
good  spell.  But,  gradually,  as  the  profits  gained  became 
visible,  and  daily  labour  a  habit,  the  desire  for  labour  has 
immensely  increased.  To  the  native  who  has  been  accus- 
tomed to  regular  employment,  idleness  becomes  irksome, 
and  poverty  degrading.  And  in  this  way  great  numbers  of 
the  people  have  been  weaned  from  their  old  habits  of  drunken 
indolence,  and  have  become  normally  industrious,  while  not 
a  few  others  have  developed  a  new  intelligence  which  has 
been  created  by  the  exigencies  of  their  work. 

Yet,  in  spite  of  the  veneer  of  civilization  which  has  come 
by  industry  and  wealth,  one  is  aware  that  until  Christianity 
has  broken  on  a  man's  soul,  he  may  still  be  essentially 
bound  by  the  most  foolish  superstitions,  and  by  a  degrading 
laxity  of  morals.  It  is  no  uncommon  thing  to  find  the 
regular  worker,  and  intelligent  clerk,  become  a  social  plague 
through  his  having  broken  loose  from  some  of  the  religious 


A  NEW  COMMERCIAL  STANDARD  193 

and  communistic  prohibitions  of  village  life,  without  having 
found  a  new  restraint  in  religious  faith. 

Clothes  are  not  the  essence  of  civilization,  nor  is  wealth 
a  higher  morality. 

With  increased  industry  and  money  a  new  commercial 
standard  has  been  introduced.  There  was  a  time  when  a  cow 
could  be  bought  for  less  than  five  shillings'  worth  of  calico, 
and  when  a  good  tusk  of  ivory  only  cost  the  Biza  or  Swahili 
trader  a  few  fathoms  of  calico  and  some  beads.  But  now 
the  prices  of  things  are  much  nearer  their  true  value. 
English  money  has  become  the  standard  currency,  and 
the  European  has  largely  fixed  prices  by  the  amount  he 
is  willing  to  pay,  and  through  competition  he  cannot 
pay  much  less  than  their  true  market  value.  Of  course, 
the  great  cost  of  exportation  has  necessarily  kept  that  price 
lower  than  it  is  in  places  nearer  to  European  markets,  but 
this  is  not  always  clear  to  the  native  who  has  experience  of 
the  prices  at  Blantyre  or  Salisbury.  The  articles  which 
cannot  be  exported  have  not  changed  much  in  price  in  the 
last  twenty  years.  Thus,  a  small  African  fowl  still  sells  for 
twopence,  and  a  basket  of  maize,  weighing  perhaps  forty 
pounds,  for  fourpence.  But  cows  cannot  now  be  bought 
for  under  three  pounds,  and  ivory,  which  is  very  scarce, 
demands  every  shilling  that  the  trader  can  afford  to  give, 
and  that  is  settled  by  the  condition  of  the  London  market. 

The  new  wealth  has  greatly  altered  the  type  of  clothing 
worn  by  the  natives.  Not  many  years  ago  the  dress  of  the 
men  consisted  of  little  more  than  two  small  skins  hanging  at 
their  loins,  and  of  a  yard  of  calico  or  less  for  the  women. 
In  the  cold  weather  they  wrapped  about  them  a  dressed 
cow's  skin,  or  a  big  piece  of  bark  cloth.  Few  of  the  people 
had  any  kind  of  covering  to  protect  themselves  from  the 
cold  of  the  nights.  Now  this  poverty  and  nakedness  has 
largely  disappeared.  The  ordinary  dress  of  a  man  is  four 
or  six  yards  of  blue  or  white  calico,  sewn  into  a  width  of  five 

N 


194  THE  VERNACULAR 

feet,  and  thrown  gracefully  over  his  shoulders,  or  tied  about 
his  loins.  The  women  drape  the  same  type  of  calico  about 
them,  passing  it  under  the  armpits  and  gathering  the  fullness 
in  front,  bind  it  with  a  coloured  piece  of  cloth  about  the 
waist.  European  clothing,  in  the  form  of  white  drill,  or 
khaki  trousers  and  jacket,  or  perhaps  some  very  dilapidated 
tweeds,  and  a  shirt,  form  the  dress  of  boys  who  have  worked 
in  the  south.  Large  numbers  have  also  imported  boots  and 
very  torn  socks,  but  these  are  only  worn  on  great  state 
occasions.  Not  more  than  two  or  three  natives  in  the  entire 
tribe  have  yet  become  habitual  wearers  of  boots. 

When  we  seek  for  modifications  in  the  vernacular  which 
have  been  introduced  by  the  European,  I  do  not  think  we 
are  on  very  firm  ground.  English  is  known  only  to  a 
few  well-educated  boys.  Missionaries  must  acquire  the 
local  language,  and  they  compose  the  major  part  of  the 
white  population,  and  its  most  educative  influence,  but  the 
natives  in  contact  with  them  have  not  necessarily  learned 
English.  Only  those  who  have  deliberately  set  themselves 
to  study  it,  can  understand  it.  But  their  language  has  been 
enriched  (or,  if  you  prefer  it,  debased)  by  the  introduction 
of  many  words  from  English  which  have  been  given  a  native 
form.  Thus,  we  constantly  hear  even  raw  natives  use  such 
words  as  "  pleasaniko  "  from  the  polite  word  "  please,"  for 
which  there  is  no  proper  equivalent  in  the  native  language  : 
for  commercial  commodities  such  adapted  words  as  these  are 
used,  "  sopo  "  (soap),  "  makina  "  (machine).  With  a  curious 
truth,  which  has  doubtlessly  arisen  from  mission  sermons, 
intoxication  is  spoken  of  as  having  drunk  "  mademone  " 
(demons).  Bricks  are  called  "  mabrickese,"  a  school 
"  skulu,"  a  church  building  "  churiche,"  and  so  on. 

I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  English  will  not  be  a 
commonly  understood  language  in  this  tribe  in  our  genera- 
tion, unless  an  entire  change  comes  over  the  number  of 
Europeans  in  residence.    I  think,  however,  that  we  have  had 


THE  VERNACULAR  195 

great  influence  in  fixing  the  common  vernacular  of  the 
people.  At  first  we  only  used  Chingoni  in  speaking  and 
teaching,  and  that  was  the  language  of  the  schools.  Then 
as  we  began  to  recognize  the  necessity  of  speaking  Chitum- 
buka  owing  to  the  large  number  of  people,  especially  the 
women,  who  did  not  understand  Chingoni,  we  com- 
menced to  use  it  only.  At  first  we  could  not  get  the 
teachers  to  preach  in  Chitumbuka.  They  had  not  yet 
translated  religious  terms  from  Chingoni  to  Chitumbuka, 
and  in  prayer  especially  were  completely  at  a  loss  for  words. 
Now  one  seldom  hears  an  extempore  prayer  in  Chingoni, 
and  hardly  ever  a  sermon.  I  believe  that  the  fact  of  the 
adoption  of  Chitumbuka  by  the  European  missionaries  has 
manifestly  helped  to  instate  it  as  the  common  tongue  of 
the  people. 

These  are  some  modifications  which  one  has  seen  taking 
place  in  the  tribal  type.  But  one  is  aware  that  greater  and 
much  more  drastic  changes  are  sure  to  occur.  With  the 
growth  of  intelligence,  especially  among  the  young,  reverence 
for  the  traditions  of  the  past,  and  for  the  elders,  who  have 
not  made  commensurate  advance,  and  for  superstitions 
which  propped  social  order,  is  sure  to  be  Aveakened.  Parental 
authority  is  rapidly  decreasing.  Chiefs  can  no  longer  compel 
obedience.  Magic  penalties  which  were  supposed  to  follow 
certain  sins  against  society  no  longer  terrify.  So,  unless  the 
European  is  serious  in  his  efforts  to  provide  strong  and 
permanent  social  bulwarks  in  place  of  those  that  are  crumb- 
ling away,  one  can  only  look  forward  with  dread  to  the 
future  of  this  composite  people. 


PART  III.    CHANGES 

CHAPTER    XIX 

HORA 

IN  1900  I  went  home  on  furlough,  and  in  the  follow- 
ing year  was  back  in  Ngoniland  with  my  wife,  who 
is  a  medical  graduate.  We  were  appointed  to  Hora 
on  our  return.  This  station  consisted  of  a  little  dwell- 
ing-house, and  a  log  schoolhouse,  and  is  situated  in  a 
place  of  surpassing  beauty,  though  the  house  has  its  back 
turned  to  all  that  is  worth  seeing.  Behind  it  lies  the  deep 
valley  of  the  Kasitu,  from  which  rises  a  long  wall  of  rocky 
and  tree-clad  hills  which  forms  the  ascent  to  the  Vipya. 
Almost  in  front  stands  the  huge  outcrop  of  stone  called 
Hora.  The  outline  of  this  mass  in  the  soft  light  of  the  evening 
wears  a  curious  likeness  to  a  gigantic  recumbent  head  of  the 
late  Sir  William  Harcourt,  whose  double  chin  falls  away  in 
rounded  folds  to  the  plain.  On  this  hill  a  great  massacre 
of  the  Tumbuka  had  taken  place  at  one  of  the  last  rebellions, 
as  I  have  related  in  Chapter  I. 

The  local  chief  was  called  Muzuku-zuku,  a  distant  relative 
of  the  reigning  family,  who  really  acted  as  regent  for  a  sister 
of  Mombera.  He  was  an  ambitious  and  far-seeing  man, 
who,  from  the  first,  had  been  friendly  to  the  mission,  though 
on  one  occasion  he  had  created  no  little  alarm  by  visiting 
his  favourite  raiding  ground  at  the  Lake,  and  burning  down 
one  of  the  mission  schools.  But  when  he  first  had  the  honour 
of  having  Mr.  Maccallum  as  a  resident  missionary  among 

196 


A  FRIENDLY  CHIEF  197 

his  own  people,  he  knew  that  his  prestige  in  the  tribe  had 
been  immensely  increased,  and  he  cherished  his  missionary 
with  the  most  jealous  care.  For  five  years  the  station  had 
not  been  inhabited  by  a  European,  though  work  was  con- 
tinuously carried  on  by  means  of  a  native  teacher.  So  when 
we  returned,  and  took  possession  of  the  deserted  house, 
Muzuku-zuku's  welcome  to  us  was  unbounded. 

Once,  when  a  war  scare  had  arisen  and  some  fears  were 
entertained  about  the  intentions  of  a  neighbouring  chief, 
he  had  surrounded  the  station  with  a  little  band  of  his 
warriors  to  protect  Mr.  Maccallum  ;  and  again,  when  a  foolish 
rumour  of  rebellion  against  the  Government  at  the  Lake 
came  up  to  the  hills,  he  offered  us  his  guard  and  volunteered 
to  send  an  inipi  to  assist  the  Government  against  his  old 
enemies  the  Tonga.  But  we  only  laughed  at  his  zeal  and 
told  him  to  sit  at  ease,  for  fighting  days  were  over. 

Hora  proved  a  good  centre  for  that  section  of  Ngoniland 
which  was  put  under  our  care.  But  it  was  only  twenty-seven 
miles  from  Ekwendeni,  and  away  far  to  the  south  of  us  a 
large  new  population,  unreached  by  any  mission  effort,  was 
settling  in  the  woods,  opening  new  garden  ground.  As  soon 
as  extensions  could  be  made  we  should  find  ourselves  on  the 
outside  edge  of  our  parish,  instead  of  in  its  centre. 

We  soon  saw  that  if  we  wished  to  conduct  our  work  with 
any  efficiency,  considerable  additions  would  require  to  be 
made  to  our  buildings.  To  do  this  we  had  only  £20,  which 
had  been  given  to  me  by  a  friend  to  expend  on  anything 
I  required.  So  we  decided  to  call  on  the  jjeople,  who  are 
rich  in  time,  if  not  in  money,  to  contribute  free  labour  for 
the  erection  of  the  necessary  houses.  In  this  Muzuku-zuku 
gave  us  his  energetic  co-operation,  and  soon  we  had  hundreds 
of  willing  workers  in  the  brickfield  who  toiled  for  us,  re- 
ceiving nothing  in  return  but  a  meal  of  maize  porridge  at 
midday.  Before  the  end  of  the  year  we  had  hurriedly 
erected  with  sun-dried  bricks,  a  dispensary,  a  little  car- 


198  LAWLESSNESS 

penter's  shop,  two  schoolrooms,  and  a  large  cruciform 
church  capable  of  accommodating  over  a  thousand  people. 
These  houses  were  devoid  of  any  architectural  feature,  and 
the  walls  stood  only  eight  or  ten  feet  high,  but  we  had 
provided  for  our  immediate  necessities,  and  when  we  had 
whitewashed  all  the  exteriors,  the  station  had  a  simple 
and  neat  appearance. 

A  good  part  of  our  first  year  was  spent  in  prolonged 
journeys  among  the  outlying  villages.  We  found  that  with 
the  pacification  of  the  country  the  slave  people  were 
deserting  their  old  masters,  with  their  consent,  and  were 
erecting  for  themselves  temporary,  and  very  disreputable 
villages  beside  the  rich  new  gardens  which  they  were  culti- 
vating. The  crops  they  grew  consisted  almost  entirely  of 
the  small  millet  (lupoko)  from  which  beer  is  made,  and 
thus  supplies  of  this  intoxicating  drink  were  ensured  for 
themselves  and  their  Ngoni  masters  to  whom  they  sent 
portions  of  their  harvest. 

The  villages  were  miserable  collections  of  temporary  huts, 
around  which  the  grass  grew  unhoed.  Drunkenness  and  all 
its  attendant  evils  were  rampant,  and  as  no  oversight  was 
exercised  by  the  chiefs,  lawlessness  was  everywhere.  Evil 
and  licentious  habits  of  the  Chewa  and  Tumbuka,  which  had 
been  suppressed  by  the  stricter  Ngoni,  were  revived,  and 
outbreaks  of  superstition  terrorized  the  people. 

One  of  these  strange  waves  was  in  full  movement  at  this 
time.  It  was  called  Kayeyi,  which  was  the  name  of  a  magical 
medicine.  Some  clever  impostor  had  arisen  in  the  land  who 
gave  out  that  he  had  the  medicine  for  everlasting  life,  and 
all  who  were  inoculated  with  it  would  never  die.  To 
increase  the  demand  for  his  services,  he  claimed  that  the 
inoculated  would  also  have  power  to  convey  this  priceless 
gift  to  others  if  they  followed  his  directions.  In  a  short  time 
"  witch-doctors  "  were  everywhere  making  capital  of  their 
miraculous  powers.    They  would  come  into  a  village  carrying 


My  Washerwoman  in  Gala  Dress 

The  crest  of  the  golden-crested  crane  surmounts  all.  Her 
head  is  encircled  with  strings  of  bright-coloured  little  beads. 
Her  ears  have  ivory  ornamenis.  On  her  neck  is  a  collar  of 
polished  brass  wire,  and  strings  of  pink  beads.  Her  arms  and 
wrists  have  the  same  jewellery.  Her  dress  is  white  calico,  tied 
round  with  a  red  coloured  handkerchief. 


HoRA  Mountain 

Here  the  Tumbuka  massacre  took  place.      The  skulls  and  bones  of  the  rebels  may  still 
be  picked  up  in  the  holes  of  the  rocks. 


IMPOSTORS  199 

their  bag  of  implements  and  offer  to  treat  the  villagers, 
demanding  in  return  goats  and  even  cattle.  Should  the 
people  refuse  the  gift,  they  would  produce  a  miniature  bow, 
and  threaten  to  utter  certain  cabalistic  words  which  would 
stab  the  people  to  the  heart,  and  in  a  day  they  would  be 
lying  dead. 

Now,  so  strong  was  the  inbred  dread  of  these  magicians, 
that  not  a  single  village  refused  to  be  robbed  of  its  goods, 
each  and  all  submitting  to  the  charm.  One  day  we  came 
to  Ng'onomo's  head  village,  and  he  at  once  began  an 
indignant  story  of  how  he  was  being  robbed  of  his  cattle  by 
the  Kayeyi  "doctors." 

"  But  they  are  all  impostors  and  liars,"  I  said. 

"  Yes,  I  know  they  are,"  he  replied. 

"  Then  why  do  you  submit  to  them  ?  You  should  thrash 
them  and  drive  them  out  as  thieves." 

"  If  I  dared  to  touch  them,  their  words  would  stab  me 
to  the  heart,  and  I  should  die,"  he  answered. 

Argument  could  do  little  against  so  strong  a  foe  as  the 
people's  inherent  superstition,  and,  until  some  bold  man 
could  be  induced  to  defy  the  "  doctors,"  and  make  them 
smart,  we  could  scarcely  hope  to  set  the  deluded  people  free. 

But  deliverance  was  nearer  than  we  thought. 

Some  time  after,  we  were  in  another  part  of  the  country, 
sixty  miles  distant  from  Ng'onomo's.  The  head  man  there 
was  a  very  feeble  old  fellow,  who  left  much  of  his  business 
to  his  big  stalwart  son,  who  was  one  of  our  teachers.  The 
old  man  sat  entertaining  us  with  stories  of  the  robberies  that 
were  being  committed  on  all  sides  by  the  Kayeyi  "  doctors." 
I  pointed  out  his  folly  in  submitting  to  their  impositions. 
Showed  him  that  the  only  defence  the  "doctors"  had  was 
their  impossible  threat  of  sudden  death,  and  he  would  soon 
end  the  outbreak  if  he  caught  and  whipped  the  next  man 
who  came  along  demanding  the  goods  of  the  people. 

At  this  point,  the  school  drum  began  to  beat  for  a  service, 


200  PUNISHMENT 

and  we  were  just  about  to  rise  to  go  to  it,  when  the  people 
spied  a  Kayeyi  "doctor"  and  his  procession  winding  up  the 
valley.  "  Catch  him,"  I  whispered  to  the  regent  son,  and 
up  he  started  along  with  some  of  the  educated  boys,  and 
raced  after  the  "  doctor."  In  a  few  minutes  they  were  back 
with  the  whole  company  in  captivity.  The  prisoners  were 
shut  up  in  a  hut,  while  the  people  trooped  off  to  worship. 
When  service  was  over  the  son  sat  and  tried  the  case  in  his 
father's  stead.  The  old  man  would  not  venture  near.  The 
"  doctor  "  was  soon  proved  guilty,  and  his  whole  accoutrement 
of  imposture  was  opened  up,  and,  after  being  laughed  over, 
was  burned  in  a  fire.  The  "doctor"  was  then  tied,  and  the 
young  chief  gave  him  a  smart  stroke  with  his  whip  and  asked 
him  whether  he  would  give  up  his  robberies.  The  touch  of 
the  whip  at  once  unloosed  his  tongue,  and  he  vowed  he 
would  never  touch  the  medicine  again,  it  was  all  a  deception. 

He  was  then  untied  and  told  to  run.  Up  he  started  with 
his  satellites,  the  village  dogs  at  their  heels  ;  but  the  sight 
of  a  man  running  was  as  exciting  to  the  hunting  instincts 
of  the  people  as  to  the  dogs,  and  off  they  started  in  pursuit 
with  whistles  and  cries.  Through  the  wood  and  down  the 
hill-side  fled  the  "doctor"  and  his  men,  dogs  barking  and 
villagers  shouting.  Medicine  horns,  feather  trappings,  and 
every  encumbrance  were  thrown  aside,  and  into  the  mist 
of  the  evening  the  Kayeyi  "  doctors  "  disappeared. 

That  was  the  death  of  Kayeyi.  When  other  village 
head  men  saw  that  the  young  chief  was  unharmed,  they 
plucked  up  heart  and  defied  the  "  doctors,"  until  it  became 
dangerous  for  one  of  them  to  venture  into  a  village  lest  some 
wise  person  should  take  them  and  whip  them  without  fear. 

Year  after  year  at  this  time,  swarms  of  locusts  appeared 
with  the  rains,  and  did  such  grievous  harm  to  the  crops, 
that  frequently  the  people  were  in  a  state  of  semi-starvation. 
They  could  not  afford  to  lose  a  portion  of  their  garden 
produce,   for   the   land   was   becoming   very   impoverished 


LOCUSTS  201 

through  long  years  of  extravagant  cultivation,  and  the 
maize  produced  was  dwarfed  and  thin. 

One  Sunday  as  we  were  gathering  to  church  we  saw  the 
dreaded  brown  cloud  of  locusts  rising  over  the  Kasitu  Valley, 
and  we  watched  it  for  some  time,  trying  to  persuade  our- 
selves it  was  not  coming  our  way.  Worship  went  on  as 
usual,  and  I  had  just  given  out  my  text  and  was  beginning 
to  preach,  when  the  whirr  of  the  wings  of  myriads  of  locusts 
was  heard  and  the  sky  became  darkened  with  the  dense 
cloud  of  them.  At  once  I  pronounced  the  benediction,  and 
feeling  all  the  restraint  of  decorum  past,  the  congregation 
melted  away  in  a  minute,  running  for  the  doors  and  leaping 
through  the  low  windows.  They  scattered  with  all  speed  to 
their  gardens  where  the  young  maize  was  standing  a  foot 
high,  shouting  as  they  ran  to  drive  the  locusts  up.  And  then 
all  through  the  Sunday  the  country  round  us  rang  with  the 
beating  of  drums,  blowing  of  horns,  clanging  of  iron,  and 
shouting  of  people,  as  the  distracted  cultivators  tried  to  save 
their  plantations  from  the  ravages  of  the  devouring  host. 
But  what  was  one  man  against  a  million  locusts  ? 

In  the  evening  my  wife  and  I  were  walking  together  when 
we  met  one  of  the  elders,  an  inveterate  optimist,  coming 
home  from  his  garden. 

"  Well,  Josef,"  I  cried,  "  where  have  you  been  ?  " 

"  Seeing  my  garden,  sir." 

"  And  how  did  you  find  it  ?  " 

"  Palibe,  sir  "  (It  does  not  exist),  he  answered,  with  a 
broad  smile. 

There  was  heroism  there,  for  the  rainy  season  was  well 
advanced,  and  a  fresh  planting  would  only  at  the  best 
produce  a  meagre  crop. 

Many  of  the  people  were  seized  with  despair,  and  there 
began  numerous  migrations  into  the  sheltered  wood  country 
to  the  west  and  south  in  the  hopes  of  hiding  away  from 
these  annual  pests. 


202  A  CHANGE  OF  LOCALITY 

It  was  soon  evident  that  if  the  tribe  was  not  to  get 
out  of  hand  entirel}^  the  chiefs  must  make  an  effort  to 
congregate  their  people,  and  also  that  if  our  station  was  to 
get  into  the  heart  of  the  work  it  had  to  do,  we  must  change 
our  location  and  go  south.  With  a  view  to  discuss  the  whole 
situation,  the  paramount  chief  called  a  meeting  of  the  heads 
of  the  tribe  who  lived  in  our  section  of  the  country,  and  I  was 
asked  to  attend.  A  huge  concourse  assembled,  and  for  a  day 
there  was  frank  talk  over  the  whole  situation.  The  chiefs 
were  unanimous  in  desiring  to  move  on  to  new  ground. 
There  is  no  doubt  the  supreme  thought  that  impelled  them 
was  the  desire  for  greater  opportunities  to  cultivate  the 
beer  grain.  But  they  pointed  out  that  their  people  were 
scattering,  and  they  could  not  be  reassembled  on  the 
old  worn  gardens.  The  only  thing  to  do  was  to  go 
with  them  to  these  "fresh  woods  and  pastures  new"  and 
gather  together  where  they  would  have  plenty  to  eat  and 
drink,  and  they  asked  if  I  would  accompany  them.  I 
answered  that  we  wanted  to  get  into  the  centre  of  our 
population,  and  that  if  the  mission  council  agreed  to  our 
changing  the  site,  I  would  migrate  with  them  provided  they 
erected  our  public  buildings  free  of  cost,  while  we  paid  for 
our  dwelling-houses.  The  pledge  was  at  once  given  that 
they  would  do  their  share,  and  soon  after  the  mission  council 
allowed  us  to  prospect  for  a  new  site. 

After  some  preliminary  prospecting  by  the  natives,  I  set 
out  one  day  with  Muzuku-zuku  and  a  great  company  of  his 
people  to  see  the  land  which  he  had  chosen  for  a  new  settle- 
ment. I  had  asked  for  a  central  place  which  would  be  about 
the  heart  of  the  general  movement  of  the  people,  for  good 
water,  and  for  a  flat  land  which  would  not  be  worn  away  in 
a  few  years  by  the  wash  of  rains,  as  we  have  seen  happen 
when  hilly  ground  is  deforested  and  cultivated. 

After  a  tramp  of  forty  miles  we  were  shown  the  country 
that,  after  much  discussion,  they  had  selected.    It  was  flat 


MAKING  A  CATTLE-KRAAL         203 

enough,  entirely  wooded  with  good  trees,  but  the  water 
supply  seemed  very  uncertain.  They  argued  that  there  is 
no  running  water  for  a  hundred  miles,  unless  we  go  back  to 
the  steep  hills,  and  that  the  deep  standing  pools  held  good 
and  sufficient  water  throughout  the  dry  season.  The  river 
where  we  halted  is  called  the  Lwasoze  (the  River  of  Tears), 
a  name  of  doubtful  portent.  After  examining  the  great  pools 
of  water  which  then  stood  deep  and  clear,  though  it  was  the 
beginning  of  the  hot  season,  I  decided  that  we  should,  at 
least,  experiment  with  a  site  there,  and  a  piece  of  land  was 
marked  out  for  the  mission. 

Next  day  Muzuku-zuku  started  his  first  village.  He  had 
already  selected  the  site  privately  along  with  one  of  his 
indunas,  and  a  "  doctor  "  had  been  called  to  make  the 
preliminary  arrangements.  The  spot  where  the  cattle-kraal 
was  to  be  built  had  been  pointed  out,  and  a  stake  driven 
into  the  ground  to  mark  it.  The  "  doctor "  had  then 
kindled  a  new  fire  by  friction,  for  a  burning  log  from  an  old 
hearth  must  not  begin  the  village  fire.  The  "  doctor  "  had 
then  gone  all  about  the  site,  and  cutting  a  branch  here  and 
there  from  trees  where  the  houses  would  be  built  had  thrown 
these  on  the  fire.  All  these  preparations  had  been  done  in 
secret,  but  now  the  public  foundation  laying  of  the  village 
was  to  begin. 

In  the  morning  the  chief  crossed  the  river  with  about  two 
hundred  men  and  came  to  the  place  pitched  upon.  When 
they  got  there  the  men  shouted  "  Mlango  lo  !  Mlango  lo  !  " 
[There  is  Mlango,  the  name  of  the  village].  They  then 
clasped  hands  and  spread  out  in  a  great  circle  round  an 
ant-hill,  thus  measuring  out  the  size  of  the  cattle-kraal. 
Each  man  now  scraped  the  earth  hard  with  his  feet,  his 
mark  joining  that  of  his  neighbour,  and  then  began  to  dig 
vigorously  with  a  pointed  stick  the  place  which  he  had 
marked,  and  so  in  half  an  hour  a  deep  narrow  trench  denoted 
the  circumference  of  the  kraal. 


204         MAKING  A  CATTLE-KRAAL 

Now,  the  men  all  turned  aside  to  the  wood  that  was  about 
them,  and  applied  themselves  to  the  chopping  down  of 
trees  with  their  little  axes,  until  there  was  a  sound  of  falling 
timber  in  every  direction.  These  trees  after  being  stripped 
of  branches  and  leaves  were  carried  to  the  narrow  trench 
and  driven  into  it,  and  soon  several  hundred  poles  were 
forming  the  circular  fence  of  the  kraal.  The  trench  was 
then  filled  with  earth,  which  was  firmly  pressed  down,  and 
the  timber  was  fastened  immovably  by  a  band  of  wattles 
and  bark  rope.  The  cattle-pen  now  stood  complete,  large 
enough  to  accommodate  hundreds  of  beasts,  or  to  allow 
hundreds  of  men  to  dance  together,  or  talk  any  public  case. 

The  "  doctor's  "  fire  in  the  kraal  was  stirred  up,  and  when 
it  was  burning  brightly,  charms  were  cast  into  it,  that  no 
beasts  of  prey  might  enter  the  village  to  destroy  the  live 
stock  of  the  people. 

Now  that  the  kraal  was  finished,  a  little  hut  was  built 
outside  it  which  was  to  be  the  bachelor  quarters  of  the 
chief,  where  he  might  live  beside  the  cattle  as  the  first 
resident  in  his  own  village. 

During  the  erection  of  this  house  the  services  of  the 
"doctor"  were  again  called  into  requisition.  He  stuck  a 
horn  of  medicine  into  the  ground  near  the  door  of  the  hut, 
and  placed  an  overturned  pot  on  top.  Around  the  pot  he 
planted  some  green  branches  from  a  tree  which  quickly 
takes  root.  And  these  medicines  have  prophylactic  powers 
against  any  evil  that  might  otherwise  come  to  the  village. 
The  chief  was  then  given  a  medicinal  preparation  with  which 
to  wash  his  entire  body,  so  that  the  village  quarrels  might 
not  stick  to  him.  And  the  "  doctor  "  told  the  chief  in  formal 
language,  that,  as  these  little  trees  grew,  so  would  his  health 
and  wealth,  and  while  they  prospered  no  harm  would  come 
to  the  community. 

That  evening  the  herd  that  had  accompanied  us  was 
driven  into  the  kraal ;    the  chief  slept  in  his  own  house  ; 


A  NEW  HOME  205 

his  men  lay  within  the  kraal  :   and  so  they  took  possession 
of  their  new  village. 

On  the  following  day  the  people  began  to  erect  temporary 
houses  of  logs  planted  in  circular  trenches  and  meeting  at 
the  apex.  Grass  was  loosely  thrown  about  them  and  a  home 
was  ready  for  immediate  occupation.  And  so  arose  the  first 
villages  which  were  to  be  occupied  for  the  next  two  or  three 
years  ;  while  the  people  opened  up  their  new  gardens  and 
adjusted  themselves  to  their  new  environment. 

Meanwhile,  I  had  done  nothing  more  than  erect  my  tent 
and  a  grass  shade,  and  so  entered  into  possession  of  my  land. 
For  the  next  few  months  we  travelled  back  and  forward 
between  Lwasoze  and  Hora,  waiting  and  experimenting, 
and  fixing  nothing.  But  we  soon  saw  that  the  first  piece 
of  land  given  us  would  not  be  suitable.  It  was  very  hot  and 
low-lying.  The  ground  was  poor,  and  the  water  when 
chemically  tested  proved  to  be  impure.  So  we  set  about 
searching  for  a  more  suitable  locality,  and  began  to  get 
dreadfully  depressed  about  our  prospects  when  we  failed  to 
strike  anything  better. 

One  afternoon,  our  optimistic  elder  Josef  turned  up 
smiling.  He  had  hit  on  a  bit  of  country  which,  according 
to  his  description,  must  be  Elysium.  The  land  was  rich  red 
soil,  the  trees  standing  high  and  straight,  and  there  was 
a  spring  of  cold  clear  water  near  at  hand.  His  find  was  only 
two  miles  off.  ^Vhen  we  set  out  with  him,  and  examined  the 
ground  and  the  water  we  were  not  much  disappointed,  and 
we  felt  that  this  place  should  meet  all  our  requirements. 

So  we  shifted  our  camp  again,  and  began  to  make  prepara- 
tions for  a  rain-proof  house  in  which  to  shelter  during  the 
wet  season.  Every  day  we  stayed  there  we  felt  more 
decidedly  that  we  had  found  a  permanent  site,  and  we  set 
about  making  bricks  for  a  little  house  which  might  serve 
as  one  of  the  buildings  of  the  station  which  was  to  be.  Our 
little  river  is  called  the  Kakoma  (the  Pretty  Little  Stream) — 


206  A  NEW  HOME 

happier  appellation  than  that  of  the  "  River  of  Tears  "  that 
we  had  abandoned. 

It  was  somewhat  difficult  to  locate  our  surroundings 
because  the  land  was  so  flat,  and  covered  with  dense  wood 
in  which  no  paths  were  yet  trodden.  When  we  moved  about 
we  had  to  blaze  the  trees  so  that  we  might  find  our  way 
back.  But  we  soon  discovered  the  beginnings  of  large 
settlements  in  every  direction,  none  nearer  than  two  or 
three  miles,  and  we  knew  that  in  a  year  or  two  a  heavy 
population  would  be  about  us. 

When  the  neighbouring  chiefs  saw  that  we  were  likely 
to  settle  there,  they  marked  out  for  us  about  a  square  mile 
of  land,  and  told  us  that  it  was  ours,  if  we  chose  to  use  it. 
So  we  walked  round  the  boundaries  with  them,  and  marked 
the  trees,  that  all  might  know  the  portion  of  land  into 
which  no  native  gardeners  might  trespass  without  first 
obtaining  our  permission  as  owners  of  the  soil. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  BUILDING  OF  A  VILLAGE 

FOR  the  next  three  or  four  years  scores  of  villages 
began  to  rise  in  our  vicinity,  as  the  people  migrated 
from  the  old  worn  land,  and  left  their  former  villages 
blazing  behind  them.  Not  a  soul  stayed  when  a  village 
moved  off,  for  no  one  would  be  bold  enough  to  live  in  the 
dirt  and  tangle  and  beside  the  deserted  graves  of  the  old 
site. 

It  is  seldom  that  a  village  remains  in  one  place  more  than 
five  or  six  years.  By  that  time  the  surroundings  become 
most  insanitary.  The  village  gets  full  of  the  graves  of  the 
dead,  and  the  houses  become  unbearably  infected  with 
vermin.  These  frequent  removals  have  made  the  natives 
expert  builders,  and  the  order  to  be  followed  is  stereotyped — 
the  plan  being  that  of  concentric  circles. 

The  heart  of  a  village  is  the  cattle-kraal  which  is  built, 
as  I  have  previously  described,  round  a  great  ant-hill. 
In  this  open  pen  the  cattle  stand  all  night,  but  their  calves 
are  housed  in  the  huts  of  the  people.  When  the  heavy  rains 
come,  the  cows  trample  the  earth  into  deep  mud  in  which 
they  stand  almost  up  to  their  udders,  glad  of  the  protection 
this  gives  from  flies.  In  the  evening  the  chief  bull  may  be 
seen  on  the  top  of  the  great  ant-hill  in  the  centre  of  the 
kraal,  majestic  with  his  huge  hump  and  long  dewlap,  and 
about  him  are  half  a  dozen  cows  maintaining  a  precarious 
footing  on  the  slippery  sides. 

Just  outside  the  kraal  there  is  a  circle  of  grain    barns, 

207 


208  BUILDING  NATIVE  HUTS 

hollow  wickerwork  cylinders,  raised  two  feet  above  the 
ground  to  protect  them  from  white  ants  and  damp,  plastered 
with  mud  and  thatched  with  grass.  They  stand  perhaps  ten 
or  twelve  feet  high,  and  are  four  or  five  feet  broad.  In  the 
larger  ones  maize  is  stored,  and  in  smaller  ones  millet  and 
ground  nuts.  In  a  partial  circle  outside  the  barns  are  square 
sheds  with  flat  roofs,  on  which  baskets  of  grain  may  be  laid, 
and  under  the  shade  women  grind  their  millet,  and  cook 
their  food.  The  fowl  and  pigeon  houses  and  goat-pens  are 
in  this  second  circle.  The  goat's  house  is  built  of  logs  leaning 
against  one  another  at  the  apex,  and  forming  a  circle  at  the 
base.  Three  feet  up  from  the  ground  there  is  a  floor  of 
round  timber  to  keep  the  goats  from  the  wet  soil  and  so 
prevent  them  getting  foot-rot  in  damp  weather. 

A  round  cylinder  of  bark  taken  from  a  large  tree  and 
supported  high  upon  two  forked  logs  forms  the  hen-house, 
to  which  no  thieving  hyenas  or  leopards  can  reach,  and  near 
it  the  branch  of  a  tree  stuck  upright  into  the  ground  has 
a  broken  pot  resting  on  its  forks  in  which  green  scummy 
water  stands  for  the  use  of  the  domestic  fowls  and  pigeons. 

After  this  second  circle  there  is  a  small  open  space  where 
the  large  wooden  mortars  in  which  the  women  pound  their 
maize  are  standing  or  lying.  In  a  tidy  village  this  space 
is  well  swept,  and  the  ground  trodden  hard  by  the  constant 
coming  and  going  of  bare  feet.  But  more  frequently  it  is 
overgrown  with  grass,  and  littered  with  maize  cobs  and  heaps 
of  chaff,  in  which  pigeons  and  fowls  are  continually  scraping. 

Now  we  come  to  the  inner  circle  of  huts  which  runs  three- 
quarters  round  the  kraal,  leaving  an  open  unbuilt  space  at 
the  cattle-gate.  The  chief's  house  is  at  the  back  of  the 
kraal,  its  door  looking  towards  the  cattle-gate.  His  wives' 
and  children's  huts  standing  three  or  five  yards  apart  follow 
the  inner  circle.  Then  comes  a  second  and  larger  line  of 
huts  behind  the  first  line,  and  at  the  back  of  these  stand  the 
owners'  grain  stores,  and  so  on  for  perhaps  three  or  four 


A  KoNDE  Hut 

These  huts  at  the  north  end  of  Lake  Nyasa  are  the  most  beautiful  and  artistic  in 
Africa.  They  are  built  of  poles  and  mud.  Outside  ihey  are  framed  with  small  bam- 
boos, and  small  bits  of  moulded  clay  are  placed  between  the  bamboos. 


THE  MAN'S   WORK  209 

circles  in  a  large  village.  At  the  time  of  this  migration  the 
tendency  was  to  break  up  into  very  small  hamlets  of  perhaps 
a  dozen  houses.  But  we  are  now  seeing  the  people  con- 
gregating in  large  villages  of  seventy  and  a  hundred  huts. 
This  has  been  accomplished  by  a  wise  order  of  Government. 

The  houses  are  all  perfectly  circular.  There  is  no  square 
thing  in  nature,  or  in  native  life.  The  circle  is  the  standard 
of  all  native  design.  The  huts  are  built  of  wooden  poles, 
perhaps  ten  or  twelve  feet  long,  and  have  a  diameter  of  from 
ten  to  twenty  feet.  To  mark  out  the  foundations  a  peg  is 
fastened  in  the  ground  and  over  this  an  endless  strip  of  bark 
is  thrown  which  is  drawn  taut  by  an  axe  held  in  the  hand 
of  a  native.  He  walks  round  the  peg  making  his  axe  describe 
a  complete  circle  with  the  bark  rope  as  radius.  A  trench 
is  then  dug,  into  which  the  poles  are  thrust,  and  after  they 
have  been  steadied  by  pressing  earth  firmly  round  about 
them,  they  are  tied  by  two  or  three  bands  of  stripped  bark 
and  wattle.  The  men  then  cut  the  ends  of  the  poles  to  an 
even  height,  leaving  a  little  doorway  about  five  feet  high. 

Now  they  fetch  great  bundles  of  wattles  from  the  scrub 
near,  and  when  they  have  collected  a  sufficient  number,  they 
make  a  little  circle  of  about  six  inches  diameter  with  small 
twigs  firmly  bound  by  strong  bark.  The  sharpened  thick 
ends  of  the  wattle  are  thrust  into  this  circle  till  they  stretch 
out  from  it  like  a  hundred  willowy  spokes  of  a  wheel.  A  foot 
lower  a  second  circle  of  small  twigs  is  bound  round  the 
widening  spokes,  and  bark  is  tightly  wound  round  it,  securely 
holding  each  wattle  in  its  place. 

The  roof  is  now  raised  on  to  a  short  log  which  stands  upright, 
and  on  it  the  first  little  circle  rests  while  the  spokes  stretch 
out  wide  till  they  touch  the  ground.  Then  circle  after  circle 
of  light  twigs  and  bark  is  made  holding  the  wattles  in  their 
place.  New  twigs  with  sharpened  points  are  thrust  into 
these  circles  where  the  space  between  the  spokes  is  too  wide, 
until  a  firm  roof  has  been  tied.    With  great  noise  and  shout- 


210  THE  MAN'S  WORK 

ing  the  men  of  the  village  assist  to  raise  it  over  the  poles 
of  the  house  and  set  it  evenly  there  like  the  lid  on  a  beehive. 
Half  the  length  of  the  roof  is  over  the  house,  the  remaining 
half  overhanging  to  form  the  wide  eaves,  or  verandah. 
Four  poles  are  raised  from  the  ground  in  the  interior  to 
support  the  roof  if  the  house  is  a  wide  one.  Small  trees  are 
now  sought  for  in  the  wood,  and  brought  to  the  village. 
They  are  perhaps  four  feet  high,  and  about  three  inches  in 
diameter,  and  these  are  placed  to  support  the  eaves. 

The  roof  is  now  ready  for  thatching.  So  a  bundle  of 
grass  is  taken  and  bound  firmly  together  with  bark  rope 
at  one  end.  This  is  evenly  cut,  and  is  thrust  on  to  the 
spikes  of  wattle  that  form  the  apex  of  the  roof.  Bundles 
of  loose  grass  are  then  pushed  in  an  ever  descending  line 
under  the  top  layers.  These  are  tied  down,  and  branches 
laid  at  intervals  on  the  top  to  hold  the  grass  in  position 
until  the  rains  have  come  and  plastered  it  into  firmness. 
The  fringes  of  grass  round  the  eaves  are  neatly  cut  with  an 
axe,  and  perhaps  part  of  the  verandah  is  closed  in  by  short 
poles,  so  making  an  extra  room  for  the  housewives'  pots 
and  baskets. 

Two  very  solid  posts  are  now  placed  in  the  ground  inside 
the  house  on  either  side  of  the  doorway,  and  the  man's 
share  of  housebuilding  is  practically  over.  He  only  requires 
to  make  the  door,  if  he  has  not  an  old  one  from  his  last 
house.  He  does  this  by  plaiting  together  strong  reeds  laid 
transversely  over  one  another,  and  tying  them  with  solid 
strips  of  bark  worked  out  and  in  among  the  reeds. 

The  interstices  through  which  the  wind  might  blow  are 
stopped  with  cow's  manure,  and  perhaps  the  ends  of  the 
door  are  made  firm  and  enduring  by  sewing  ox-hide  round 
them.  The  door  will  be  closed  at  night  by  jamming  a  cross- 
bar between  it  and  the  inner  door-posts,  and  nothing  can 
open  it  unless  the  inmates  lift  the  bar.  When  the  good 
wife  leaves  the  village  in  the  day-time  she  will  slip  the 


THE  WOMAN'S   WORK  211 

cross-bar  through  a  loop  of  string  which  is  attached  to  the 
centre  of  the  door,  and  lay  it  across  the  outside  of  the 
doorway.  An  entrance  can  easily  be  effected  by  pulling 
the  bar  away,  but  to  enter  a  strange  house  unauthorized 
is  a  crime  of  the  gravest  kind. 

Now  that  the  man's  work  is  over  the  woman's  begins. 
She  hoes  earth  at  the  base  of  an  ant-hill,  and  after  pouring 
on  it  pot  after  pot  of  water  she  tramps  the  mud  thoroughly. 
This  she  carries  into  the  house  until  she  has  made  several 
large  heaps  on  the  floor.  Dipping  her  hands  into  the  water 
so  that  the  mud  may  not  adhere  to  her  fingers,  she  now  takes 
up  a  handful  and  sticks  it  in  between  the  poles  of  the  hut, 
until  at  least  all  light  is  closed  out,  and  the  wall  is  roughly 
plastered.  Next  day  she  returns  to  find  that  big  pieces 
of  mud  have  fallen  during  the  night,  and  these  she  carefully 
replaces.  Then  with  well-moistened  hands  she  rubs  the 
damp  mud  over  and  over,  filling  in  the  cracks,  and  smoothing 
the  surface.  This  is  the  work  of  many  days  while  the  walls 
continue  drying. 

Now,  when  the  plastering  is  completed,  she  tackles  the 
floor.  Red  earth  is  strewn  thickly,  and  levelled.  Pot  after  pot 
of  water  is  sprinkled  over  that  until  the  whole  is  thoroughly 
sodden.  The  next  day,  if  the  earth  has  dried  sufficiently, 
she  begins  to  beat  it  with  a  stick  her  husband  has  carved 
for  her,  and  makes  a  little  hollowed  basin  in  the  centre  for 
her  fire,  and  lines  off  a  segment  of  the  floor  with  a  rim  of 
earth  to  mark  her  cupboard.  All  day  she  beats  until  the 
floor  has  attained  a  certain  hardness.  Next  morning  when 
she  returns  to  the  hut  she  finds  her  floor  cracked  all  over 
with  deep,  wide  fissures  which  the  drying  mud  has  left. 
Over  these  she  sprinkles  a  little  water,  and  patiently  beats 
the  mud  until  the  cracks  close.  Day  by  day  she  repeats  this 
process  while  the  floor  is  thoroughly  drying,  until  it  is  all 
one  consistent  mass  without  a  rift. 

Now  she  goes  to  the  nearest  marsh,  and  brings  back  little 


212  THE  WOMAN'S   WORK 

honeycombed  ant-heaps,  of  a  hard,  black  earth.  These  she 
pounds  into  dust,  and  mixes  the  dust  with  water,  and  then 
smears  a  portion  of  the  floor  with  it.  Taking  a  round  water- 
worn  stone  she  rolls  it  and  rubs  it,  laying  all  her  weight  on 
the  stone,  until  a  shining,  black  cake  is  formed.  As  this 
dries  some  of  it  will  crack  and  peel,  and  the  worker  must 
damp  and  roll  it  again.  At  last,  after  some  days  of  beating 
and  rolling  the  whole  floor  shows  a  glossy,  black  surface 
like  polished  ebony. 

When  the  interior  of  the  house  is  finished,  she  goes  to  the 
doorway  and  repeats  the  same  floor-making  process  there, 
and  if  she  is  an  ambitious  woman  she  plasters  a  good  part 
of  the  outside  wall  of  her  house  under  the  eaves. 

Now  the  house  is  ready  for  occupation,  a  most  inviting, 
clean  and  cool  abode.  One  or  two  reed  mats  are  spread  on 
the  floor.  In  the  segment  which  was  rimmed  off  for  a 
cupboard,  the  wife  puts  the  pride  of  her  heart,  her  array  of 
baskets  and  clay  pots,  and  between  the  four  roof  pillars  her 
husband  hangs  a  reed  tray  over  the  smoke  of  the  fire,  on 
which  she  lays  her  salt,  and  tobacco,  and  one  or  two  other 
articles  that  require  to  be  kept  dry. 

But  the  house  is  not  long  so  tidy.  The  good  wife  loves  to 
see  the  pots  accumulate,  and  soon  she  will  have  a  score  of 
them  heaped  in  that  corner  of  her  dwelling.  I  have  counted 
as  many  as  fifty  pots  and  baskets  in  a  single  hut,  every  one 
of  them  overlaid  with  soot  and  dust,  for  there  is  no  chimney 
in  the  house  and  dusters  are  unknown.  The  master  of  the 
house  also  has  been  collecting  rubbish,  and  from  wooden 
pegs  there  hang  ragged  blankets,  and  old  shirts,  while 
clubs  and  spears  stand  against  the  wall.  The  smoke,  too, 
has  been  uninterruptedly  leaving  its  mark.  The  roof  soon 
becomes  black  and  polished.  Soot-laden  cobwebs  gather 
about  the  pots  and  festoon  the  roof-pillars.  Cockroaches 
grow  fat  on  the  food  leavings,  and  swarm  in  every  dark 
corner.    And  then  the  house  tick  enters,  and  in  spite  of  all 


THE  WOMAN'S  WORK  218 

the  good  housewife  can  do  by  daily  sweepings,  and  the 
cleanly  smearing  of  her  floor  with  cow-dung,  they  increase 
until  the  nights  become  painful,  and  sleep  is  broken.  In 
five  or  seven  years  these  unwelcome  guests  oust  their  hosts, 
who  are  driven  forth  to  prepare  fresh  quarters  for  themselves. 
Around  the  village,  too,  the  bush  has  grown  so  insanitary, 
that  it  is  well  a  flitting  has  become  compulsory.  Much 
longer  residence  on  this  site  will  be  dangerous  to  health, 
and  the  condition  of  the  houses  within,  as  well  as  the  de- 
struction wrought  by  borers  and  white  ants  on  the  wood 
of  the  walls,  make  a  combination  of  untidiness  and  dis- 
comfort that  will  lead  to  a  general  demoralization  of  the 
villagers. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

LOUDON 

THE  district  in  which  we  had  now  settled  is  close  by 
the  place  where  Zongwendaba  lived  for  two  or 
three  years  after  coming  up  from  the  Zambesi 
and  before  going  north  to  Tanganyika.  He  had  found 
there  a  sub-tribe  of  Chewa,  who  were  ruled  by  a  chief  called 
Chulu,  whom  he  conquered,  absorbing  his  little  clan.  Here 
some  bloody  massacres  occurred  which  have  made  the 
memory  of  the  place  rather  unsavoury.  One  was  in  connec- 
tion with  a  reaction  against  the  "  witch  doctors."  A  great 
many  accusations  were  being  made  by  them  against  lead- 
ing people  in  the  tribe.  Conspiracies,  poisonings,  bewitchings 
were  frequently  being  reported  by  them,  and  the  culprits 
were  revealed  by  their  charms  and  charlatanry.  Apparently, 
they  had  overdone  it,  for  the  suspicions  of  Zongwendaba 
were  aroused  that  possibly  the  "  doctors  "  were  not  so 
discerning  as  they  were  spiteful.  So  one  night  when  all 
were  asleep,  he  took  the  blood  of  a  slain  goat,  and  secretly 
entered  an  unoccupied  hut,  and  sprinkled  it  on  the  walls 
and  the  floor.  Next  morning  he  rose  and  was  seen  to  enter 
this  hut  unconcernedly,  and  then  come  forth  in  much 
agitation.  "  There's  blood  on  the  walls  and  the  floor," 
he  cried.    "  Who  has  been  murdering  ?  " 

Then  the  head  men  having  been  called  together  and  all  the 
witch  "  doctors,"  they  were  shown  what  had  been  discovered 
in  the  hut  and  told  to  discern,  and  declare  who  the  murderer 
was.     They  consulted  together,  and  then  proceeded  to  go 

214 


DISORDERLY  COMMUNITIES        215 

through  their  cryptic  tricks,  until  at  last  they  unanimously 
arrived  at  and  denounced  the  culprit.  Then  Zongwendaba 
rose  up  in  triumph  and  declared  the  stratagem  he  had 
arranged  to  test  the  reality  of  their  detections,  and  laying 
the  blame  on  their  shoulders  for  all  the  judicial  murders 
that  had  recently  taken  place,  he  ordered  every  man  of  them 
to  be  killed. 

When  the  tribe  moved  away  to  the  north,  they  left  this 
country  deserted,  and  for  sixty  years  or  so  no  people  settled 
there.  But  three  or  four  years  before  we  came  to  the 
Lwasoze  many  villages,  consisting  chiefly  of  Chewa  and 
Tumbuka  slaves,  had  returned  to  their  old  land,  and  were 
scattered  up  and  down  the  woods.  These  people,  away 
from  the  control  of  their  Ngoni  masters,  had  reverted  to  the 
practices  of  their  forefathers.  Every  night  the  rattle  of 
drums  could  be  heard,  and  waves  of  minor  dance  music 
floated  to  us  from  these  hidden  villages.  When  one  passed 
through  them  one  saw  the  little  temples  of  the  spirits, 
and  straggling  collections  of  untidy  houses  with  no  cattle- 
kraal,  and  no  arrangement.  The  people  were  very  timid 
of  us.  They  feared  the  Ngoni  migration  which  was  following 
us,  and  many  deserted  their  villages  and  moved  off  to  new 
ground  rather  than  remain  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
masterful  Ngoni.  The  disorder  of  these  communities  was 
evident.  Near  our  site  were  three  deserted  villages,  from 
which  all  the  inhabitants  had  fled  a  year  before,  after  a 
drunken  fight  which  had  ended  in  the  death  of  one  or  two. 
Every  week  we  heard  of  cases  of  administration  of  the 
mwavi  poison  ordeal.  In  one  week  as  many  as  three  dif- 
ferent parties  were  brought  to  us  for  treatment  after  having 
drunk  mwavi. 

We  were  soon  to  feel  the  danger  of  this  want  of  authority 
ourselves.  One  day  a  little  girl  who  carried  water  for  us 
from  the  well  to  the  house,  a  distance  of  a  few  hundred  yards, 
did  not  appear  at  midday.    She  had  gone  off  with  her  pail 


216  MURDER 

a  little  before,  and  had  not  returned.  In  the  afternoon,  when 
she  was  still  missing,  we  sent  to  her  village  to  see  whether 
she  had  gone  home  ill,  but  she  had  not  been  seen  there. 
Her  mother  came  to  hear  of  the  inquiries  and  hastened  to 
our  house  in  a  wild  state  of  fright.  "  My  child  !  my  child  !  " 
she  cried.  "  She  is  killed  ;  an  enemy  has  killed  her  !  "  And 
she  flung  herself  on  the  ground,  beating  her  head  and  breasts, 
and  weeping. 

We  sent  out  searchers  all  over  the  country,  but  no  news 
could  be  heard  of  little  Vibi.  But  this  we  learned,  that  her 
mother  had  burnt  her  husband  alive  by  deliberately  setting 
fire  to  his  hut  when  he  was  asleep,  and  she  had  many  enemies, 
so  we  feared  the  worst.  Some  months  after,  a  band  of 
workers  who  were  cutting  trees  in  the  thick  wood  a  few  yards 
off  from  the  well,  came  on  human  bones,  a  few  beads  and  torn 
cloth,  and  a  pail.  The  beads  and  cloth  were  soon  identified 
as  Vibi's,  and  the  pail  as  ours,  and  when  all  the  marks  and 
spoor  were  traced  it  seemed  that  she  must  have  been  caught 
at  the  well  by  some  man,  and  dragged  into  the  wood  where 
she  was  probably  clubbed  to  death,  and  her  body  left  for 
the  hyenas.    Who  the  murderer  was  we  could  never  find  out. 

Just  about  this  time  one  of  our  housegirls  was  seized  at 
the  river  where  she  had  been  washing,  and  carried  off  to  a 
village.  There  she  was  maltreated,  and  shut  up  in  a  house 
by  her  captors,  until  her  friends  came  and  rescued  her. 

Now  this  lawlessness  was  not  confined  to  the  masterless 
Tumbuka  people.  Their  defenceless  condition,  as  well  as 
their  crimes  tempted  some  of  the  restless  young  bloods 
among  the  Ngoni  to  make  frequent  reprisals.  One  of 
Mombera's  sons  raided  a  village  in  the  wood  near  where  we 
settled,  and  carried  off  the  property  of  the  people,  among 
other  things  a  bag  of  powder.  He  put  the  powder  in  his  own 
hut  in  spite  of  the  warning  of  the  people,  and  in  the  night- 
time it  exploded  by  some  accident  and  killed  him. 

Again,  my  wife  and  I  were  touring  one  day  along  the  valley 


DIFFICULTIES  217 

of  the  Rukuru,  when  we  heard  that  a  Httle  punitive  expedi- 
tion sent  out  by  the  paramount  chief  had  preceded  us. 
My  wife  was  travelHng  ahead  of  me,  and  when  I  came  up 
to  her  I  found  her  by  the  path  examining  the  body  of  an 
old  woman,  which  was  lying  on  the  ground  covered  with 
spear  wounds.  A  little  farther  on  we  suddenly  debouched 
on  a  village,  and  were  amazed  to  find  all  the  people 
standing  ready  to  attack  us  with  spears  in  their  hands, 
and  arrows  on  their  bow-strings.  They  thought  we 
were  the  punitive  expedition  returning,  and  w^ere  ready 
to  fight.  When  they  saw  their  mistake,  they  led  us  to  two 
or  three  graves  in  the  village  where  they  had  just  finished 
burying  their  dead  who  had  been  killed  in  the  former  day's 
attack,  and  then  they  brought  to  us  for  treatment  several 
people  who  had  spear  and  club  wounds  on  their  bodies. 

It  was  very  plain  that  we  were  surrounded  by  a  great  deal 
of  social  disorder,  and  that  no  easy  task  lay  before  us  if 
we  were  to  produce  a  quiet  and  enlightened  spirit  in  the 
villages  of  this  new  district. 

At  first  we  had  great  difficulty  in  approaching  the  people. 
They  did  not  want  us.  None  came  to  worship  on  Sunday 
except  a  handful  of  Christians  who  had  followed  from  Hora. 
We  offered  to  open  schools  in  some  of  the  valleys  near  us, 
but  the  people  refused  to  have  them.  When  we  began  to 
make  bricks,  the  workers  engaged  were  all  local  people, 
and  now  I  hoped  to  familiarize  them  with  my  presence,  and 
by  the  daily  morning  worship  to  open  up  a  little  truth. 
But  when  I  ventured  to  go  quietly  to  the  brickfield,  which 
was  under  the  charge  of  a  native  foreman,  the  women  and 
girls  left  their  work  and  ran  off  to  a  distance  from  which 
they  watched  me  with  dread. 

On  Sundays  the  trained  workers  and  ourselves  scattered 
among  the  villages  to  attempt  preaching,  but  we  found  it 
very  hard  to  get  an  audience.  When  I  entered  a  village  the 
women  and  girls  would  throw  down  their  pounding  pestles 


218  OPPOSITION 

and  flee  into  the  bush.  The  men  would  sit  sulkily  at  their 
little  tasks,  and  refuse  to  leave  them  to  hear  what  we  had 
to  say.  It  required  a  great  deal  of  patience  and  chaffing 
and  talking  to  disarm  their  opposition,  and  get  them  to 
gather  for  worship.  Some  of  the  native  preachers  who  had 
not  the  prestige  of  a  white  man,  had  to  suffer  harder  things. 
One  Monday  a  big  sawyer  returned  to  his  work  very  much 
"  in  the  blues."  He  had  gone,  in  the  goodness  of  his  heart, 
to  a  village  to  preach,  but  a  beer-drinking  was  in  progress 
at  the  time,  and  the  people  had  seized  his  Bible  and  torn 
it  to  pieces,  and  then  had  driven  him  forth  with  spears  and 
clubs.  At  another  village  the  native  teacher  had  gathered 
a  few  quiet  people  together  to  worship,  but  some  people  were 
riotously  drinking  at  the  opposite  end  of  the  village.  These 
resented  the  preacher's  presence.  He  had  come  to  denounce 
their  drunkenness,  and  to  turn  the  hearts  of  the  girls  against 
polygamists,  so  they  rose  and  attacked  the  little  congregation. 
They  in  turn  rushed  to  their  huts  and,  seizing  their  clubs, 
defended  themselves  vigorously,  and  next  morning  both 
parties  came  to  us  with  their  broken  heads  and  bruised 
bodies,  to  pour  out  their  grievances,  and  get  their  wounds 
dressed. 

Through  all  this  indifference  and  opposition  we  quietly 
pushed  on  with  our  work,  content  if  one  or  two  in  a  village 
showed  any  desire  to  hear  us.  Meanwhile,  the  people  from 
the  districts  round  about  Hora  were  gradually  migrating 
to  our  neighbourhood,  and  with  them  came  a  goodly  number 
of  peaceable  and  enlightened  souls,  whose  presence  had  an 
appreciable  influence  on  the  surrounding  atmosphere. 

Then  we  got  ready  for  a  strong  and  determined  attack  on 
the  prevailing  heathenism.  All  the  old  schools  in  the 
north  were  shut  down  for  a  month  or  two,  and  the  teachers 
gathered  together  for  a  combined  campaign.  After  an  in- 
formal conference,  we  sent  them  out  along  with  intelligent 
Christians  who  had  volunteered   for  the  service,  to  open 


EVANGELIZING  219 

schools  everywhere.  Two  were  sent  together  for  their  mutual 
encouragement  and  guidance.  We  told  them  to  settle 
down  for  a  month  in  every  large  group  of  villages  that  would 
permit  them,  and  conduct  a  school,  and  preach  daily. 
Though  the  people  did  not  desire  them,  they  were  to  remain 
teaching  the  few  who  wished  to  learn,  preaching  positive 
truth  and  avoiding  unnecessary  denunciations. 

And  so  they  went  forth  with  many  prayers.  Some  were 
welcomed,  some  were  tolerated,  others  were  driven  off  with 
violence.  But  about  fifty  schools  were  opened,  and  con- 
ducted daily  for  one  month.  By  the  time  this  effort  was  over 
we  had  won  the  victory.  Prejudices  had  been  dissipated, 
new  desires  had  been  awakened,  some  knowledge  of  what 
we  wished  to  give  was  imparted,  and  when  the  teachers 
returned  to  their  homes,  deputation  after  deputation  came 
to  us  from  those  villages  where  they  had  taught,  asking  for 
permanent  schools.  As  quickly  as  we  could  we  tried  to 
answer  their  requests,  until  up  and  down  the  land  a  great 
network  of  simple  little  schools  had  been  spread. 

Meanwhile  we  were  hard  at  work  erecting  our  new  station. 
About  this  time  Dr.  Loudon  of  Hamilton  died.  He  was  the 
friend  and  physician  of  Dr.  Livingstone,  and  had  helped 
to  identify  his  body  when  it  was  brought  back  to  England. 
I  had  been  supported  by  the  generosity  of  himself  and  his 
wife.  On  his  death,  Mrs.  Loudon  offered  a  thousand  pounds 
to  erect  a  memorial  hospital  to  him  in  my  station,  but  as  so 
large  a  hospital  would  involve  considerable  expenses  in 
the  way  of  nurses,  upkeep,  etc.,  and  make  greater  claims  on 
the  time  of  my  wife  than  as  wife  and  mother  she  could 
afford  to  give,  I  suggested  that  the  gift  should  be  expended 
on  building  the  dwelling-house  and  station,  and  that  the 
place  should  be  called  Loudon.  The  people  would  do 
their  share  in  helping  to  erect  hospital  and  church. 
This  was  readily  agreed  to,  and  with  this  goodly  sum  of 
money  in  hand,  and  a  further  sum  of  seven  hundred  pounds 


220  A  SUCCESSFUL  STORE 

from  our  home  committee,  we  proceeded  to  plan  our 
buildings. 

AVhile  at  Hora,  I  had  started  a  little  store  for  selling 
cloth  to  the  people,  as  there  was  none  in  our  district. 
At  that  time,  workers  would  only  take  payment  in  calico, 
and  refused  cash  because  it  could  not  be  turned  into  the  goods 
they  required.  The  store  began  on  a  very  small  scale. 
The  first  year's  turnover  amounted  to  about  thirteen  pounds. 
But  gradually  it  prospered,  and  with  Mrs.  Loudon's  money 
laid  out  as  capital  for  the  store  until  it  should  be  required  for 
buildings,  we  were  able  to  keep  a  more  tempting  selection 
of  goods,  and  in  two  or  three  years  we  were  having  a  turnover 
of  more  than  a  thousand  pounds  a  year,  which  yielded  us  a 
considerable  profit,  all  of  which  was  spent  in  the  erection  of 
houses  on  the  station,  and  in  road-making. 

My  brother,  who  is  an  architect,  provided  us  with  sketch 
plans  for  all  our  houses  after  I  had  given  him  our  ideas,  and 
also  a  ground  plan  for  the  station,  and  our  own  architect,  Mr. 
Hardie,  prepared  the  plan  for  our  dwelling-house.  These 
plans  immediately  changed  our  entire  outlook.  We  no  longer 
aimed  at  simple  amateurish  square  walls  with  grass  roofs, 
but  saw  how  with  a  little  effort  houses  could  be  erected  with 
some  architectural  features,  and  all  related  so  that  the 
station  would  delight  the  eye,  and  increase  the  order  and 
ease  of  our  work. 

Now  that  we  were  ready  to  begin  in  earnest,  we  called  in 
the  chiefs  and  people,  and  reminded  them  that  we  had 
flitted  south  with  them  relying  on  their  promise  to  erect 
our  public  buildings,  while  we  paid  for  the  dwellings,  and 
we  asked  them  to  fulfil  their  covenant.  The  people  began 
to  come,  at  first  slowly,  but  after  a  few  weeks  in  great 
batches,  until  the  woods  rang  all  day  with  the  sound  of 
multitudinous  workers.  Altogether  about  seven  thousand 
people  gave  us  three  weeks'  free  labour  in  accordance  with 
the  agreement.    But  only  a  small  part  of  what  we  had  to  do 


BUSY  WORKERS  221 

could  be  undertaken  by  voluntary  labour,  and  great  gangs 
of  paid  workers  had  to  be  engaged.  Hundreds  besieged  us 
for  work  every  Monday  morning,  though  the  ordinary  man's 
pay  was  only  two  shillings  a  month.  We  raised  it  afterwards 
to  three  shillings.  Of  course,  when  we  selected  our  labourers 
from  the  crowds  of  applicants,  we  always  gave  the  preference 
to  those  who  had  given  us  free  labour. 

Now,  the  once  silent  woods  began  to  hum  with  humanity. 
Paths  were  trodden  out  in  every  direction.  Gangs  of  thirty 
or  forty  stalwart  men  pulled  great  logs  to  the  saw-pits, 
where  seven  big  saws  were  hard  at  work.  As  they  neared 
the  station  they  raised  choruses  which  were  sung  to  the 
rhythm  of  their  pulls,  and  when  at  last  the  log  was  laid  in 
its  place  alongside  of  the  others,  some  one  of  the  gang  would 
dash  out  and  execute  a  wild  war-dance,  while  the  others 
sang  and  beat  the  ground  in  accompaniment.  Then  off 
they  went  to  fetch  another  log. 

Another  gang  was  cutting  straight-stemmed  trees  in  the 
wood  near  us,  to  serve  for  scaffolding,  and  for  roofing  the 
houses  that  were  to  be  thatched.  Companies  of  twenty  to 
thirty  women  were  bringing  in  great  bundles  of  grass  four 
or  five  times  a  day,  singing  as  they  came. 

Two  or  three  hundred  young  people  were  in  the  brickfield, 
the  trampers  in  the  mud-holes  shouting  their  songs  as  they 
danced  the  clay  soft,  the  children  whistling  and  shouting 
as  they  ran  about  with  the  brick  moulds,  and  over  all  rose 
the  strident  yells  of  the  moulders  as  they  demanded  more 
mud  or  more  moulds. 

The  sound  of  axes  could  be  heard  when  another  lot  of 
men  was  felling  timber  for  the  brick  burning,  and  clearing 
the  station  grounds  of  the  thick  wood  in  which  we  had 
begun  to  build.  And  above  all  the  din  there  was  the  pistol- 
like crack  of  the  waggoners'  whips,  and  their  hoarse  shouting 
at  the  slow-moving  oxen  which  pulled  about  our  two  carts. 

Most  of  the  labourers  had  come  from  distant  villages, 


222  BUILDING 

and  were  accommodated  in  leafy  sheds  near  us.  From  these 
the  noise  of  talking,  laughing,  and  singing  was  prolonged 
far  into  the  night.  We  had  made  a  rule  that  after  the  church 
bell  rang  at  nine  there  must  be  silence,  but  frequently  the 
interest  of  conversation  by  the  night  fires  became  so  intense, 
that  one  or  two  dozen  seemed  to  be  shouting  their  argu- 
ments at  once,  and  then  entirely  unable  to  sleep,  we  would 
be  compelled  to  get  out  of  bed  and  ring  the  church  bell 
again. 

While  we  were  still  at  the  early  stages  of  building,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Riddell  Henderson  arrived  to  be  colleagues  to  us 
on  the  station.  It  was  a  great  good  fortune  to  us,  for  Mr. 
Henderson  understood  thoroughly  the  whole  art  of  building, 
having  been  trained  to  it  in  his  youth,  and  I  put  myself 
under  him,  to  serve  my  apprenticeship. 

We  began  to  erect  the  smaller  houses  of  the  station,  after 
having  selected  a  few  smart  youths  who  might  learn  the 
art  of  bricklaying  and  assist  the  older  hands.  From  the 
smaller  houses  we  proceeded  to  the  hospital,  and  had  a 
formal  foundation-stone  laying  which  was  attended  by  the 
chief  and  numerous  people.  Then  we  began  to  tackle  our 
most  serious  work,  the  building  of  a  great  church  in  the 
centre  of  the  square.  The  church  was  to  be  big  enough  to 
hold  about  2500  people,  two  rows  of  large  Norman  pillars 
and  arches  were  to  run  along  the  nave,  and  we  were  to 
attempt  two  towers  nearly  seventy  feet  high.  To  do  this, 
three-quarters  of  a  million  bricks  were  made,  and  great 
foundations  five  feet  deep  were  dug.  Then  we  proceeded 
apace,  but  the  anxieties  of  that  church  were  sometimes 
more  than  Mr.  Henderson  and  I  could  stand.  We  were  on 
the  scaffolds  all  day.  Frequently  we  could  see  messengers 
from  our  wives  pursuing  us  up  and  down  the  ladders  to 
summon  us  to  a  meal,  but  neither  of  us  would  be  ready  to 
rest,  and  we  would  keep  the  house-boys  playing  hide-and- 
seek  after  us  while  we  moved  about  among  the  workers 


D.  V 


b    -a. 


AN  ACCIDENT  223 

or  got  on  to  scaffolds  which  we  knew  were  higher  than  any 
house-boy  would  venture  to  climb.  We  were  building  from 
sketch  plans,  without  details,  and  so  made  some  mistakes. 
One  of  these  might  have  been  very  serious.  The  pillars 
supporting  the  arches  seemed  to  us  rather  slim  when  we 
began  to  add  the  superincumbent  wall,  and  we  did  not  feel 
quite  easy  about  them  ;  but  we  thought  they  might  do. 
Some  days  after  the  walls  were  up,  and  the  carpenters  had 
begun  to  knock  out  the  arch  "  centres,"  I  went  into  the 
church  just  after  the  two  o'clock  bell  for  resuming  work  had 
rung.  Finding  none  of  the  workers  at  their  places,  I  went 
out  again  to  hurry  them  forward.  Just  as  I  passed  out  of 
the  building  I  heard  a  noise  like  thunder,  and  ran  back  to 
see  what  had  happened.  One  of  the  pillars  had  bent  out, 
crushed  under  the  weight  which  was  resting  on  it,  and 
down  had  come  its  arches  and  the  whole  line  of  arches 
which  stretched  away  from  it.  The  disaster  was  the  work 
of  a  second.  When  we  looked  at  the  heap  of  debris  our  hearts 
were  heavy  lest  any  worker  had  been  in  time  at  his  work 
and  was  now  lying  dead  under  this  heap.  It  was  with  great 
thankfulness  that  we  found  that  every  one  had  been  late, 
and  not  a  man  was  in  the  building. 

After  so  convincing  a  demonstration  of  the  instability 
of  our  pillars,  we  pulled  down  the  opposite  row  of  arches 
and  pillars  also,  and  proceeded  to  make  great  interlacing 
foundations  which  ran  across  and  along  the  church  for  each 
pillar  that  was  to  be  erected.  Then  we  doubled  the  thick- 
ness of  our  columns,  and  used  only  the  best  clay,  and  once 
more  the  arches  and  walls  began  to  rise,  and  stand  as  they 
are  to-day  without  the  movement  of  an  inch. 

We  had  another  great  deliverance  when  we  were  building 
our  towers.  It  was  during  the  rainy  season,  and  the  workers 
had  almost  completed  the  north  tower.  On  a  scaffold  at  the 
top,  about  a  dozen  men  and  boys  were  engaged,  and  on 
each  rung  of  a  broad  ladder,  reaching  from  the  ground  to 


224        DANGER  FROM  LIGHTNING 

the  head  of  the  tower,  two  boys  were  standing,  handing  up 
from  one  to  the  other  the  bricks  and  mud  which  the  builders 
required.  Altogether,  over  fifty  workers  were  engaged  on 
the  tower.  That  forenoon  as  I  was  examining  the  church, 
I  noticed  a  piece  of  work  at  the  farthest  end  from  the  tower 
which  had  been  scamped,  and  I  took  every  worker  off 
the  tower  to  finish  this  job.  An  hour  or  two  afterwards 
when  I  was  sitting  in  the  office  along  with  two  teachers 
doing  translation  work,  there  was  a  sudden  flash  of  lightning, 
followed  immediately  by  a  dreadful  clap  of  thunder.  We 
ran  out  to  see  whether  anything  had  been  damaged,  and 
found  that  the  lightning  had  struck  the  north  tower,  smashed 
the  top  scaffolding  to  pieces,  and  ripped  the  great  ladder 
from  the  top  to  bottom.  It  was  with  a  great  feeling  of  awe 
that  all  the  workers  gathered  with  me,  and  knelt  down  to  give 
God  thanks  for  their  deliverance.  What  a  dreadful  calamity 
there  might  have  been  had  I  not  removed  them  all  from  the 
tower  shortly  before  !  And  we  took  care  to  remember  that  at 
morning  prayers  we  had  committed  our  work  into  the 
safe  keeping  of  the  Father. 

At  last  the  church  was  ready  for  occupation,  and  we 
celebrated  its  opening  with  a  great  convention.  Three  or 
four  thousand  people  attended,  mostly  from  those  villages 
which  we  had  so  recently  and  so  successfully  stormed. 
We  began  with  a  musical  festival,  at  which  the  various 
schools  submitted  new  hymns.  The  words  were  chiefly  taken 
from  the  book  of  Psalms,  but  the  tunes  were  entirely  native, 
old  war-songs  rescued  from  the  oblivion  of  the  past,  and 
new  compositions  of  lads  with  some  taste  for  music.  Most 
of  their  hymns  are  built  up  on  the  system  of  a  short  solo 
by  the  leader  with  the  body  of  the  people  taking  up  the  main 
song,  and  singing  harmonious  parts.  The  music  is  weird 
and  fetching,  and  catches  the  native  ear  at  once,  and  when 
once  the  tune  is  sung,  every  person  in  the  audience  seems 
to  get  hold  of  it  and  sing  by  the  second  verse.    These  festivals 


A  GREAT  CONVENTION  225 

were  held  annually,  and  after  considerable  weeding  out 
we  have  gathered  a  great  body  of  sacred  music,  which  is 
largely  used  in  church  worship.  How  great  an  improvement 
this  is  on  the  adoption  of  English  tunes,  will  be  appreciated 
when  we  realize  that  the  accent  of  native  words,  which  is 
always  on  the  penultimate,  is  ruined  by  English  music, 
and  that  the  native  ear  can  only  by  long  training  grasp  our 
metrical  divisions.  Musical  experts  tell  me  that  our  native 
system  seems  to  be  something  like  what  the  Greek  scale 
must  have  been. 

The  church  was  packed  daily  by  great  audiences.  The 
first  day  on  which  we  counted  our  audience  we  found  that 
three  thousand  had  squeezed  themselves  into  the  building. 
But  that  was  too  dense  a  crowd,  and  we  afterwards  refused 
to  allow  more  than  two  thousand  five  hundred  to  enter. 
What  an  audience  we  now  had  to  preach  to  !  As  the  years 
passed,  and  intelligence  increased,  we  received  as  deep 
inspiration  from  that  responsive  crowd  as  one  could  from  a 
great  congregation  of  Europeans.  And  their  numbers  have 
not  diminished.  Now  we  have  a  roofed  platform  outside  the 
building,  for  we  cannot  receive  under  the  church  roof  the 
audiences  of  five  or  seven  thousand  that  assemble  at  our 
sacramental  seasons. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

A  TOUR 

THE  work  of  station  building  made  such  constant 
demands  on  our  time,  that  touring  in  the  district 
was  somewhat  difficult,  and  prolonged  absences 
were  almost  sure  to  be  followed  on  one's  return  by  vexatious 
days  spent  in  re-organizing  work  that  had  gone  wrong  and 
unravelling  tangled  threads.  But  when  Mr.  Henderson 
was  with  us,  one  or  the  other  was  able  occasionally  to 
get  away  for  the  supervision  and  encouragement  of  the 
teachers  at  distant  schools.  In  normal  times  one  of  the 
staff  is  almost  always  travelling,  for  the  district  we  work 
extends  about  ninety  miles  from  north  to  south,  and  a 
hundred  and  forty  from  east  to  west.  These  tours  are  the 
most  delightful  times  of  the  year,  when  one  always  may  be 
sure  of  physical  and  moral  invigoration.  There  is  no  better 
medicine  for  pessimism,  and  for  the  dullness  and  irritation 
that  may  arise  through  prolonged  and  grinding  work  on 
the  station,  than  two  or  three  weeks  at  the  head  of  a  caravan 
tramping  among  the  village  schools.  The  daily  change  of 
scene,  the  overflowing  hospitality  of  the  villagers,  the 
physical  renewal  that  comes  from  long  tramps,  and  the 
evident  progress  made  in  some  of  the  villages,  make  one's 
outlook  as  bright  and  sparkling  as  a  healthy  man's  should 
be.  I  will  therefore  try  to  transcribe  some  notes  of  a 
short  commonplace  tour,  which  may  give  some  idea  of  its 
interest. 

226 


A  SCHOOL-HOUSE  227 

One  day  I  set  off  with  about  a  dozen  carriers,  six  of  whom 
were  reserved  for  carrying  the  machila,  or  hammock,  in 
which  I  might  rest  when  tired,  and  be  carried  along  at  a 
swinging  trot.  The  others  carried  tent,  and  bed,  and  food- 
stuffs. Tliese  "  boys  "  being  fed  largely  by  the  hospitality 
of  the  people  in  whose  villages  we  stayed,  cost  me  each 
twopence  a  day  in  wages,  so  that  each  day  I  was  out  my 
expenses  came  to  about  two  shillings. 

We  had  been  travelling  through  thick  bush  for  some 
hours,  winding  in  the  most  tortuous  fashion  among  old 
village  sites,  and  around  garden  boundaries,  when  we  struck 
a  hoed  road.  This  was  a  sure  sign  that  the  village  school 
was  not  far  off,  and  it  had  the  great  advantage  that  we 
could  not  get  lost  on  it,  and  need  lose  little  time,  for  it  ran 
on  as  straight  as  an  arrow.  But  it  had  also  two  great  dis- 
advantages. First,  it  took  every  ant-hill  on  its  line,  and 
although  a  detour  of  two  yards  would  have  brought  it 
round  the  base  of  the  ant-hill,  it  ran  on  without  a  bend  up 
to  the  summit  of  the  heap  and  down  again.  In  the  second 
place,  machila  travelling  was  attended  with  serious  risks 
to  the  recumbent  passenger,  for  the  road  was  unfinished 
and  rendered  dangerous  by  the  stumps  of  cut  trees  about 
three  feet  high,  which  stood  dotted  over  it — just  a  convenient 
height  to  rip  the  machila  under  one's  back  and  bruise  one's 
sides  black  and  blue. 

By  and  bye,  boys  and  girls  appeared  running  along  the 
road  to  give  us  a  warm  welcome.  They  were  immensely 
proud  of  the  road  they  had  made,  and  listened  eagerly  to 
hear  it  praised.  So  we  had  to  speak  of  its  inerits  and, 
meanwhile,  be  dumb  as  to  its  defects.  Half-a-mile  farther 
on,  the  road  ended  at  the  school  playground,  and  we  entered 
the  school  to  see  its  condition  before  going  on  to  the  village. 
It  is  a  log-house  about  seventy  feet  long  and  eighteen  broad, 
thatched,  and  lit  from  one  side  by  openings  in  the  wall.  The 
other  side  is  hermetically  sealed  against  the  prevailing  south- 


228  AN  EXCITABLE  YOUTH 

east  wind.  The  interior,  which  has  a  raised  platform  of  hard 
dry  mud  at  one  end,  and  a  reed  table,  is  elaborately  decorated 
with  clays  of  different  colours,  the  lower  half  of  the  wall 
being  red,  the  upper  half  white.  Numerous  crude  figures  of 
leopards,  antelopes,  cocks,  etc.,  are  painted  on  the  white 
background.  This  is  a  new  art,  for,  at  first,  these  people 
had  no  paintings  and  could  not  understand  the  flat  repre- 
sentation of  things,  their  present  attempt  at  drawing  hav- 
ing an  interesting  likeness  to  the  bushman's  paintings.  The 
floor  is  of  beaten  mud,  and  is  smeared  with  cow's  dung  to 
destroy  vermin  and  keep  down  the  dust ;  against  the  walls 
stand  a  few  seats  made  of  logs  with  holes  bored  in  them  into 
which  are  thrust  sticks  to  serve  as  legs. 

When  we  entered  the  village  we  were  met  with  a  scene 
of  wild  excitement.  The  old  induna  who  is  head  of  this 
group  of  villages  is  over  ninety  years  of  age.  He  was  in 
the  first  company  that  crossed  the  Zambesi  with  Zongwen- 
daba,  and  was  then  a  small  boy.  His  heart  overflows  with 
good-will,  and  when  I  sat  down  beside  him,  he  caught  my 
hands  and  kissed  them  repeatedly.  The  people  crowded 
around,  but  at  a  respectful  distance,  calling  out  their  noisy 
welcome,  and  the  eldest  son,  who  was  very  excited  with 
beer,  and  frequently  is  subject  to  mad  fits,  dashed  about 
in  restless  energy.  This  irresponsible  man  has  assumed 
charge  of  his  father's  villages,  for  the  old  man  is  not  able 
to  move  about  much,  and  he  keeps  things  in  a  ferment. 
My  coming  always  excites  him  inconveniently.  The  last 
time  I  was  here  I  spoke  to  the  assembled  people  in  the 
village  about  going  to  school  regularly.  When  I  had  finished, 
a  zealous  young  blacksmith  got  up  and  began  to  say  that 
wisdom  was  for  the  old  as  well  as  for  the  young,  and  that 
the  old  should  leave  off  drunken  habits.  But  he  had  not 
got  far  before  the  mad  son  rose  in  a  wild  passion,  and 
yelled  that  he  would  kill  him  for  his  impudence.  He 
stripped   off  his  cloth  and  fell  on  the  ground  naked,  and 


DISTURBED  SLEEP  229 

ploughing  his  face  and  body  in  the  loose  grey  soil  till  he 
was  covered  with  dust,  he  snorted  like  a  wild  bull,  and 
then  rushed  to  his  hut  to  get  his  spears.  When  he  came 
back  with  them  he  had  to  be  forcibly  held  until  he  was 
quieted. 

Sometimes,  when  the  madness  is  on  him  he  sets  fire  to 
the  houses,  or  runs  into  the  kraal  and  stabs  the  cattle.  Many 
a  time  the  people  wanted  to  kill  him,  for  he  troubled  them, 
but  his  father  forbade  them.  Yet  he  has  been  our  great 
friend.  His  wild  energy  compelled  the  people  to  build  their 
school,  and  makes  them  liberal  with  food  for  the  teachers. 
He  had  heard  that  I  might  arrive  the  day  before,  and 
refused  to  touch  beer  all  day.  But  when  I  did  not  come 
he  lost  hope,  and  now  had  been  drinking  and  was  very 
excited. 

Shortly  after  my  arrival  a  meeting  was  held  in  school, 
and  Kampupu,  the  madman,  sat  quietly  with  me  on  the 
platform.  In  the  middle  of  my  address,  when  I  had  been 
speaking  of  the  hatred  which  Christ's  goodness  raised, 
Kampupu's  heart  began  to  overflow,  and  he  insisted  on 
speaking  to  the  people.  With  difficulty  I  got  him  to  remain 
silent,  but  no  sooner  was  the  meeting  closed  than  he  jumped 
to  his  feet,  and  began  a  most  excited  and  disconnected 
harangue. 

That  night  several  people  who  were  waiting  to  be  received 
into  the  catechumens'  class  came  to  me  for  a  personal 
interview,  and  I  spent  an  hour  or  two  with  them  examining 
their  knowledge  and  faith.  When  bedtime  came  it  was  hard 
to  sleep  at  first.  People  were  continually  passing  and  re- 
passing the  tent,  and  in  the  dark  they  would  forget  about 
the  tent  ropes,  and  go  tripping  over  them.  At  last  the 
crisis  came  in  the  early  hours  of  the  morning,  as  it  seemed 
to  me,  when  an  old  lady,  carrying  a  pot  of  beer  on  her  head, 
came  crash  over  the  ropes,  smashed  her  pot,  and  spilled  all 
her  beer.    I  called  from  the  interior  asking  whether  she  was 


230  MORNING  SCHOOL 

hurt,  and  regretting  the  accident,  and  then  turned  over  and 
slept  till  dawn. 

Before  the  sun  was  yet  up  I  was  wakened  by  the  same  old 
lady  standing  outside  my  tent  relating  to  each  passer-by  the 
story  of  her  fall  and  my  apology,  with  great  detail  and 
picturesqueness.  By  sunrise  she  had  told  her  story  a  dozen 
times. 

The  school  assembled  at  seven  in  the  morning  and  it  was 
a  treat  to  see.  It  had  only  been  two  sessions  in  existence, 
but  there  were  already  several  lads  able  to  read  the  Bible 
in  a  slow  fashion.  Some  school  methods  were  corrected, 
but,  on  the  whole,  pupils  and  teachers  were  worthy  of 
praise.  Kampupu  was  in  and  out  of  school,  tremendously 
elated,  and  twice  interrupted  my  labours  with  public 
orations.  The  only  person  I  saw  who  could  effectually 
tame  him  was  one  of  his  wives.  I  overheard  her  lash  him 
sorely  with  a  string  of  bitter  words,  under  which  he 
cowered. 

At  ten  o'clock  we  struck  camp  and  went  on  about  four 
miles  to  another  school.  A  heap  of  bricks  on  the  play- 
ground proclaimed  the  fact  that  the  people  here  were 
ambitiously  beginning  to  make  bricks  that  they  might  build 
an  enduring  school  ;  but  they  had  not  got  much  farther 
than  the  start.  The  village  itself  was  large  and  beautifully 
clean.  Unfortunately,  beer  was  flowing,  and  the  exuberance 
of  the  welcome  was  discounted  by  the  evidence  of  the 
exciting  cause.  When  night  fell  the  state  of  drunkenness 
got  worse  and  worse,  and  the  noise  of  tongues  was  ear- 
splitting.  The  poor  little  babies  were  crying  badly  through 
it  all. 

For  the  sober  we  had  one  or  two  meetings,  and  then  I 
spent  some  time  interviewing  candidates  for  baptism. 
About  nine  o'clock,  somewhat  fatigued  with  a  long  day's 
work,  I  sat  by  a  fire  and  listened  to  the  boys  telling  animal 
fables  with  running  choruses  throughout,  and,  encouraged 


DEFECTIVE  ARCHITECTURE        231 

by  my  presence,  and  the  diligence  of  my  pencil  and  note- 
book seizing  a  treasure  of  words,  the  fables  went  on  far  into 
the  night. 

After  examining  this  school  in  the  morning,  and  not  being 
over-pleased  with  the  conditions  I  found  there,  and  the 
irregularity  of  the  pupils,  we  marched  two  hours  farther  on, 
and  arrived  at  a  little  tumbling  building  which  was  packed 
with  an  afternoon  school.  There  is  a  curious  see-saw  experi- 
ence in  school  visitation.  One  never  seems  to  see  too  many 
good  schools  in  succession,  nor  too  many  bad  ones.  The 
bitter  is  well  mixed  with  the  sweet.  Over-elation  is  sure  to 
get  a  check  at  the  next  place  you  visit,  and  so  also  is  over- 
depression.  It  was  so  here,  for  after  the  morning  school 
this  one  was  a  delight.  The  classes  were  all  full,  and  all 
intensely  eager,  and  it  was  a  stimulating  thing  to  see 
married  men  and  women  in  the  reading  classes.  Here  they 
were  talking  of  building  a  new  school,  and  I  gave  them  what 
advice  I  could  on  their  plans.  Then  I  pent  the  evening 
examining  candidates  for  baptism,  whose  clear  intelligence 
cheered  me  immensely.  At  night  the  sound  of  hymn 
singing  came  from  several  huts.  It  was  sweeter  music  than 
that  of  the  drunken  revelry  of  the  previous  night.  Evi- 
dently there  was  a  wave  of  deep  religious  fervour  in  that 
village. 

Next  morning  leaving  much  warmth  and  hospitality,  we 
passed  on  to  our  next  school,  and  pitched  the  tent  in  the 
middle  of  a  large  and  closely-built  village.  The  chief,  Chinde, 
a  son  of  Mombera,  was  then  a  young  fellow  of  much  energy, 
and  ambition.  He  took  me  to  see  the  brick-school  he  had 
built,  and  the  brickfield  where  he  had  prepared  material 
for  his  own  house.  I  showed  him  how  to  burn  his  bricks 
and  started  the  erection  of  a  kiln.  (The  house  was  built 
some  months  after,  but  both  Chinde  and  his  builder  had  too 
much  beer  to  sustain  them  in  their  efforts,  and  when  it  was 
finished  it  was  found  that  the  windows  were  in  curious  wavy 


232  A  MURDER  CASE 

lines  that  wanted  to  meet  at  a  point,  the  doorway  had  been 
forgotten,  and  the  only  entrance  was  by  a  window,  and  the 
walls  had  so  toppling  an  appearance  that  they  could  not 
bear  a  roof,  and  soon  collapsed.) 

Chinde  had  at  that  time  a  wretched  murder  case  on  his 
hands.  A  woman  of  his  village  had  been  killed  in  very  cruel 
circumstances  in  the  village  of  a  neighbouring  induna,  the 
same  who  had  years  before  demanded  guns  from  me  that 
he  might  follow  his  Senga  slaves.  The  murder  was  com- 
mitted during  a  beer  carousal,  of  course,  and  the  culprit 
had  escaped.  The  case  had  become  very  troublesome,  as  the 
young  chief  refused  to  receive  any  other  propitiation  than 
the  delivery  up  to  him  of  the  murderer,  and  the  induna 
professed  to  be  unable  to  find  him.  He  asked  me  to  try  to 
get  the  induna  to  arrest  the  culprit,  and  talk  the  case,  so 
I  sent  him  a  note  telling  him  to  busy  himself  and  get  the 
ugly  matter  settled. 

Next  day  was  Sunday,  and  we  had  very  full  services, 
with  audiences  peculiarly  still  and  sober.  One  was  able  to 
speak  on  some  of  the  deepest  truths  of  Christianity  and  see 
the  people  intelligently  responding,  and  not  a  few  professed 
that  day  to  renounce  evil  and  yield  themselves  to  Christ. 
These  spiritual  rewards  are  not  suddenly  reached.  The  head 
teacher  explained  the  atmosphere  when  he  said  that  for  a 
month  back  they  had  been  holding  daily  meetings  for 
prayer  and  Bible-reading. 

But  the  night  was  broken  with  very  different  doings. 
The  village  had  just  gone  to  sleep  when  we  were  all  roused 
by  sounds  of  war-dancing  at  the  kraal-gate,  the  beating  of 
shields,  and  the  chorus  of  men.  In  a  few  minutes  the  whole 
village  was  out  to  see  the  cause  of  this  disturbance.  It  was 
the  neighbouring  induna  who  had  arrived  with  the  murderer 
whom  he  had  caught  that  evening.  With  him  was  a  great 
company  of  armed  men,  who  were  letting  off  steam  with  their 
wild  leapings  and  defiances.    The  criminal  was  sitting  among 


AN  AL  FRESCO  COURT  233 

them,  naked  and  tightly-bound  to  a  long  pole.  In  the 
moonlight  it  was  a  weird  wild  scene. 

After  a  time  the  murderer  was  handed  over  to  the  chief, 
and  was  lodged  in  the  kraal.  His  hands  were  most  cruelly 
tied,  and  amid  loud  protests  I  cut  the  ropes  with  a  knife, 
and  warning  the  keepers  that  they  must  not  maltreat  their 
prisoner  during  the  night,  I  turned  in. 

In  the  morning  early  the  case  was  tried,  and  concluded 
about  noon.  Through  a  good  part  of  the  talking  I  sat  on 
the  ant-hill  in  the  kraal  listening  to  the  evidence.  It  did  not 
take  long  apparently  to  prove  the  guilt  of  the  man,  but  it 
took  a  long  time  to  settle  the  punishment.  Hours  were  spent 
arguing  the  amount  of  compensation  that  should  be  paid. 
Chinde  had  no  authority  over  the  induna ;  he  owed  allegi- 
ance to  another  sub-chief.  The  only  pressure  therefore  that 
could  make  a  judgment  operative,  was  that  of  the  public 
conscience.  Finally  the  case  was  settled,  and  the  induna 
signified  his  acceptance  of  the  decision  by  shouting  Chinde's 
courtesy  title.  The  death  penalty  was  not  inflicted,  because 
I  had  warned  Chinde  about  using  such  high  powers  without 
informing  the  Government  of  the  Protectorate,  though  they 
had  not  yet  begun  to  administer  Ngoniland.  The  criminal 
was  handed  over  to  Chinde  to  be  "a  man  "  of  his  and  live 
in  his  village,  and  the  induna  was  fined  three  cows.  When 
I  asked  Chinde  why  the  induna  was  so  harshly  punished, 
he  answered,  "It  is  his  business  to  make  his  people  keep  the 
peace.  This  he  has  not  done.  And  is  he  not  the  '  father  ' 
of  that  murderer,  and  so  must  pay  for  his  crime  ?  "  The 
culprit  was  a  slave-man  of  the  induna. 

The  school  in  this  village  was  a  pleasure  to  see,  though 
I  had  some  sore  business  in  purging  the  classes  of  those 
who  were  unfit  for  the  work  they  were  professing.  The 
reading  classes  were  very  large.  It  thrilled  me  to  compare 
what  I  saw  there,  with  the  scenes  of  four  years  before  when 
I  had  first  opened  this  school.     Then  one  could  not  have 


234  A  REMARKABLE  CHANGE 

found  four  yards  of  calico  in  the  whole  village,  or  many 
ounces  of  beads  among  all  the  people.  Now  most  of  them 
were  well  dressed  with  an  abundance  of  cloth,  and  the  women 
seemed  wealthy  in  strings  of  beads.  But  what  impressed 
me  was  that  air  of  intelligence,  and  confidence  and  quiet 
formerly  so  lacking.  It  was  here  I  had  first  seen  the  dread- 
fully obscene  dances  of  the  people,  but  since  that  moonlit 
night  there  has  never  been  another  of  these  unholy  revel- 
lings  in  that  kraal.  We  left  in  the  afternoon  and  moved 
south  up  the  right  bank  of  the  Rukuru.  There  were  plenty 
of  villages  here.  Nearly  all  the  people  seemed  to  be  Senga 
subjects  of  the  Ngoni,  and  they  were  very  friendly  to  us  as 
we  passed  from  village  to  village.  Towards  sunset  we  halted 
in  a  very  dirty  collection  of  huts,  and  prepared  to  pitch  the 
tent.  Before  we  could  do  so  we  carried  out  great  sweeping 
operations  to  clear  a  few  yards.  The  people  were  shy, 
and  afraid  to  come  near  me. 

At  nightfall  I  induced  the  children  to  gather  round  the 
fire,  and  invited  the  older  people  to  join  them  that  we  might 
talk,  but  their  mouths  were  sealed  with  timidity.  Then  I 
began  to  tell  them  Bible  stories.  I  made  them  tell  their  own 
story  of  the  coming  of  death  to  the  world,  and  then  I  told 
our  story  of  Eden.  No  tale  excites  greater  interest,  and 
point  by  point  the  head  man  repeated  it  again  to  the  people. 
The  life  of  Jesus  and  His  death  roused  their  interest,  and 
they  made  loud  exclamations  of  horror  at  the  crime  of  kill- 
ing Him.  Other  stories  followed,  and  then  simple  sentence 
hymns  after  the  style  of  their  own  village  songs,  which  they 
quickly  learned. 

When  my  turn  was  over  their  turn  followed,  and  for  an 
hour  or  two  I  sat  listening  to  their  song  fables.  But  I  was 
sorry  afterwards  that  the  Bible  stories  had  not  been  the  last 
on  the  programme,  for  the  people  had  evidently  been  in- 
terested. At  last  we  all  went  off  to  seek  sleep.  I  had 
barely  blown  out  the  candle  when  there  was  a  noise  of  my 


AN  ECLIPSE  OF  THE  MOON       235 

carriers  tumbling  out  of  the  old  houses  that  had  been  given 
them  to  sleep  in,  and  loud  grumbles  were  audible  :  "  The 
houses  are  biting."  They  had  found  the  bugs  too  numerous, 
and  for  the  rest  of  the  night  they  lay  down  on  the  ground 
beside  the  fires  and  so  escaped  their  enemies. 

For  the  next  two  or  three  days  we  were  marching  along 
the  hot  valley  of  the  Rukuru.  Happily  there  was  plenty  of 
tree-shade,  with  pleasant  places  to  rest  in  during  the  heat 
of  the  day.  But  when  we  arrived  at  the  Mzimba  river  no 
relief  could  be  greater.  The  sun  had  been  particularly  fierce, 
and  the  air  very  still,  and  that  day  we  had  gone  nearly  thirty 
miles  before  midday.  What  a  gift  of  God  that  stream 
seemed  to  be,  the  first  running  water  we  had  seen  for  a 
fortnight  !  We  lay  prone  on  the  sand  of  the  shallow  river, 
the  reeds  making  some  shade  from  the  sun,  and  the  cool 
water  trickling  over  our  bodies.  This  was  compensation 
beyond  expression. 

It  was  the  night  of  a  total  eclipse  of  the  moon  when  we 
arrived  at  Ng'onomo's.  Some  hours  before  the  sun  went 
down  I  told  him  he  would  see  a  wonderful  thing  in  the 
heavens  that  night,  but  the  old  warrior  and  his  wives 
were  very  excited  with  beer,  and  paid  little  attention  to 
what  I  said.  When  the  evening  fell  songs  and  dances, 
the  effervescence  of  beer,  began  throughout  the  village, 
and  it  was  plain  that  we  were  going  to  have  a  rowdy 
night. 

At  last  the  grey  shadow  was  seen  creeping  over  the  moon, 
and  a  chilling  darkness  began  to  grow  deeper.  The  dances 
stopped,  the  songs  grew  fainter,  and  soon  the  whole  village 
was  wrapped  in  a  profound  and  awed  silence.  Women  sat 
under  the  eaves  of  their  huts  afraid  to  look  up.  Children 
crept  inside  to  sleep  by  the  fire. 

As  I  went  through  the  village  I  came  on  a  group  of  lads 
standing  with  the  teacher  watching  the  progress  of  the 
eclipse.    Seeing  me,  the  teacher  cried  : 


236       AN  ECLIPSE  OF  THE  MOON 

"  These  boys  have  been  asking  me  what  is  happening  to 
the  moon." 

"  And  what  did  you  reply  ?  "  I  asked,  wondering  what 
his  explanation  would  be. 

"  Oh,  I  told  them  it  was  just  the  moon's  work."  An 
answer  that  showed  no  great  depth  of  scientific  knowledge, 
but  yet  indicated  emancipation  from  superstitious  fear. 

Going  along  to  Ng'onomo's  courtyard,  I  found  that  he 
had  retired  early  to  sleep  and  had  not  seen  the  eclipse.  I 
called  him  out,  and  with  a  little  grumble  he  crept  from  his 
hut.  When  he  looked  at  the  moon  he  stared  in  dumb 
astonishment,  and  sat  down. 

"  What  is  going  to  happen  ?  "  he  cried.  "  Are  we  all  to 
die  ?  " 

I  explained  simply,  and  by  illustration,  and  when  he  had 
heard  he  said  : 

"  And  what  does  it  mean  ?  Is  death  coming  ?  That  is 
how  the  sun  died  on  the  day  we  crossed  the  Zambesi." 

I  saw  that  no  more  explanations  would  help,  so  I  tried  to 
use  the  awe  that  was  over  him.  I  told  him  that  God  was 
speaking  to-night.  With  great  solemnity  he  asked  me 
what  He  said,  and  a  number  of  his  wives  gathered  near  to 
hear. 

"  He  is  calling  you  to  repent,  and  come  to  Him." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  repent  ?  " 

"  To  abandon  your  wickedness,  and  be  a  follower  of 
Jesus." 

"  What  wickedness  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Slaying  of  men." 

"  I  have  stopped  it." 

"  Stealing." 

"  I  never  stole." 

"  What  about  the  cattle  and  people  you  stole  in  the 
raids  ?  " 

"  That  was  not  stealing.    I  took  what  I  found." 


AN  ECLIPSE  OF  THE  MOON       237 

"  God  reckons  it  stealing.  And  to-night  He  sees  that  there 
is  blood  on  your  hands." 

Turning  to  the  teacher,  who  in  his  early  days  was  often 
out  with  the  impis,  he  said  : 

"  But  you,  too,  killed  and  took  cattle." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  teacher  ;  "  but  now  I  believe  that  Christ 
has  paid  up  my  case,  and  God  has  forgiven." 

"  Well,"  returned  Ng'onomo,  "  I,  too,  no  longer  kill  and 
raid.    What  else  must  I  give  up  ?  " 

"  Your  polygamy."  The  old  man  was  still  increasing  his 
harem. 

"  Then  who  will  cook  for  me  ?  " 

"  Your  drunkenness." 

"  Beer  is  good.  What  else  shall  I  eat  ?  I  shall  die  of 
hunger." 

"  Your  wrath.  Every  one  trembles  before  you.  Speak 
kindly  and  learn  to  love." 

"  Yes,  that  is  good  advice.  I  speak  nothing  but  gentle 
words." 

Here  one  of  the  wives  broke  in  :  "  Yes,  teacher,  you  have 
spoken  truth  now." 

But  Ng'onomo  interrupted  her  with  passion. 

"  Silence,  you  hussy,  or  I  shall  kill  you  !  Clear  out  of 
this,  or  I  shall  kill  you  !  "  Whereupon  she  moved  sulkily 
away. 

"  Now  you  are  condemned  out  of  your  own  mouth,"  I 
cried. 

And  so  the  discussion  went  on.  While  we  were  still  in  the 
middle  of  it  the  old  head  wife  aj)peared  in  the  courtyard 
with  scared  face. 

"  O  white  man,"  she  cried,  "  are  we  all  to  die  ?  I  want 
to  die.  I  am  tired  out  with  my  hoeing  and  my  work.  Let 
me  die  to-night." 

But  Ng'onomo  was  too  awed  to  answer  her  roughly. 
When  I  left,  his  wives  were  begging  him  hard  to  allow  them 


238       AN  ECLIPSE  OF  THE  MOON 

to  learn  in  school,  for  the  teachers  had  only  been  permitted 
to  come  to  his  village  on  the  condition  that  his  wives 
should  not  be  taught.  And  the  last  words  I  heard  were 
from  the  chorus  of  his  wives :  "  To-morrow  we  begin  to  go 
to  school." 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

THE    COMING    OF    THE    ADMINISTRATION 

WHILE  we  were  busy  over  the  erecting  of  our 
station,  and  the  evangelization  of  our  district, 
the  tribe  was  passing  through  a  political  crisis 
which  ended  happily  in  the  British  Government  taking 
over  its  administration.  For  several  years  past  every  other 
tribe  in  the  Protectorate  had  had  resident  British  magistrates 
and  paid  an  annual  hut-tax  of  three  shillings.  The  Northern 
Ngoni  alone  were  exempt  from  this.  As  far  back  as  1896 
Sir  Harry  Johnston  had  written  to  Dr.  Elmslie,  when 
trouble  had  arisen  over  the  harbouring  of  a  native  chief 
who  was  a  fugitive  from  justice.  "  Hitherto,  the  Ngoni 
chiefs  have  shown  themselves  capable  of  managing  the  affairs 
of  their  own  country  without  compelling  the  interference 
of  the  administration  of  the  Protectorate.  They  have 
maintained  a  friendly  attitude  towards  the  English  and  have 
allowed  us  to  travel  and  settle  unhindered  in  and  through 
their  country.  As  long,  therefore,  as  the  Northern  Ngoni 
continue  this  line  of  conduct,  and  give  us  no  cause  for  inter- 
ference in  their  internal  affairs,  so  long,  I  trust,  they  may 
remain  exempt  from  taxation  as  they  will  put  us  to  no 
expense." 

The  terms  of  this  letter  were  read  to  the  chiefs  by  Dr. 
Elmslie,  and  it  was  the  basis  of  the  relations  in  which  the 
tribe  stood  to  the  administration. 

But  as  the  years  passed,  and  Europeans  were  having 
more  dealings  with  the  people,  and  the  executive  power  of 

239 


240  TRIBAL  DISORDER 

the  chiefs  ceased  to  be  upheld  by  the  terror  of  the  spear, 
the  situation  became  more  complicated.     The  filibustering 

of  Z had  shown  the  necessity  for  some  representative 

of  the  Government  being  in  the  land.  Constant  friction  was 
arising  from  attempts  by  the  Ngoni  to  follow  runaways  who 
escaped  to  the  Lake  or  to  other  administered  districts,  and 
internal  matters  were  not  under  good  control.  A  trading 
store  at  Ekwendeni  had  been  burned  in  the  night,  and  for  a 
long  time  the  chiefs  did  not  show  much  activity  in  tracing 
the  incendiary.  Crimes  were  being  committed  with  impunity, 
and  the  strong  were  inclined  to  take  advantage  of  the  weak 
until  we  Europeans,  and  the  oppressed  among  the  people, 
longed  for  the  coming  of  a  protective  administration.  As 
missionaries,  we  had  consistently  refused  to  try  native 
cases,  and  had  sent  them  all  on  to  the  chiefs,  though  on 
several  occasions  we  had  to  press  the  chiefs  to  do  their  duty, 
and  on  others  we  had  to  act  as  friendly  arbitrators  between 
strong  chiefs  who  had  quarrelled,  and  had  no  court  of 
appeal. 

In  1904,  the  necessity  for  having  a  resident  officer  of  the 
Government  in  the  tribe  to  administer  its  affairs  became  very 
evident  through  an  unfortunate  collision  between  native 
police  and  the  Ngoni.  A  party  of  these  police  had  come 
across  the  undefined  boundary  that  separated  the  Ngoni 
and  Tonga  tribes,  and  began  to  collect  hut-taxes,  and  to 
burn  the  villages  of  those  who  refused  to  pay.  When  matters 
were  becoming  threatening  I  interfered,  and  finding  that  the 
police  were  acting  on  their  own  initiative,  and  were  not  under 
the  control  of  any  responsible  person,  I  sent  them  back 
to  their  headquarters  with  a  note  of  explanation. 

In  consequence  of  my  action,  a  Government  inquiry  was 
held,  and  an  apology  was  made  for  the  unauthorized  raid  of 
the  police.  At  the  same  time  the  Governor,  who  had  for 
some  time  been  considering  the  advisability  of  annexing  and 
administering  Northern  Ngoniland,  decided  to  take  imme- 


A  NATIVE  COUNCIL  241 

diate  steps  in  this  direction,  and  we  were  asked  to  assist 
in  calling  together  the  chiefs  and  head  men  to  meet  him  at 
Ekwendeni  to  talk  over  the  whole  situation.  We  loyally 
did  so,  and  I  went  through  to  Ekwendeni  to  be  present  at 
this  most  important  indaba. 

Wlien  Sir  Alfred  Sharpe,  who  had  early  experience  of  the 
Ngoni,  arrived,  he  did  the  wisest  thing  possible.  He  ap- 
proached them  through  their  known  friends,  the  missionaries, 
and  he  came  accompanied  by  his  wife,  and  without  the  dis- 
play of  a  single  soldier.  That  was  the  guarantee  of  peace, 
and  immensely  impressed  the  people.  All  the  great  chiefs 
and  indunas,  together  with  thousands  of  their  men,  had 
assembled,  and  sat  in  a  huge  circle  awaiting  the  Governor. 
As  is  their  custom  in  talking  important  cases,  every  man 
was  fully  armed. 

Before  going  to  meet  the  chiefs,  Sir  Alfred  was  good  enough 
to  lay  all  his  proposals  before  Mr.  Stuart  and  myself,  and  to 
ask  us  for  suggestions.  Then  he  went  out  to  the  great 
assembly.  Lady  Sharpe  and  Mrs.  Stuart  sat  there  among 
the  people,  the  only  women  in  the  whole  crowd,  and  their 
presence  was  as  good  as  a  declared  pledge  that  the  Govern- 
ment's intentions  were  all  for  peace. 

Using  a  mission  teacher  as  his  interpreter,  Sir  Alfred 
laid  before  the  chiefs  his  proposal  to  put  a  Government 
official  among  them,  who  would  strengthen  their  hands 
in  administering  justice  to  the  people.  He  proposed  selecting 
the  paramount  chief  and  half  a  dozen  other  great  chiefs 
to  be  a  council  for  the  British  official.  These  chiefs  would  be 
subsidized. 

The  proposals  were  put  to  the  chiefs  and  indunas  and  their 
opinions  invited.  They  were  almost  immediately  accepted, 
and  with  much  heartiness.  A  number  of  problems  involved 
in  the  coming  of  the  administration  were  then  presented  by 
the  leaders.  They  wanted  to  know  what  their  powers  would 
be  ;  hoAV  they  would  control  the  scattering  slave  popula- 
Q 


242  WISE  ADMINISTRATION 

tion  ;  how  it  would  affect  their  hberty  to  migrate  to  richer 
territory,  how  a  chief's  judgment  could  be  made  final ;  how 
dissatisfied  litigants  might  be  prevented  from  playing  off 
one  chief  against  another,  and  then  the  Boma  against  all ; 
how  it  Avould  affect  their  hunting  rights,  and  so  on. 

With  great  tact  and  patience,  Sir  Alfred  answered  all 
the  questions,  making  some  concessions  which  were  im- 
mensely popular.  Two  arrangements  which  he  announced 
seized  the  imagination  of  the  people,  and  produced  great 
satisfaction.  The  one  was  that  no  old  quarrels  would  be 
raised,  or  would  be  heard  in  court,  a  new  book  was  to  be 
opened  that  day,  and  the  past  was  to  be  forgotten.  And 
the  other  was  that  the  police  force  would  be  composed  of 
Ngoni  only. 

Throughout  this  critical  indaha.  Sir  Alfred  Sharpe  showed 
that  he  had  been  at  pains  to  understand  and  appreciate 
the  people,  and  his  first  words  had  disarmed  suspicion, 
and  produced  a  quiet  and  favourable  attention.  With  great 
wisdom  he  refrained  from  interfering  with  the  constitution 
of  the  tribe,  but  rather  insisted  that  the  magistrate  would 
come  to  guide  and  strengthen  present  authority.  He  warned 
the  chiefs  against  the  taking  of  bribes  and  the  distorting 
of  justice.  He  assured  them  that  His  Majesty's  Government 
had  not,  and  never  would  have  designs  to  take  their  cattle 
from  them.  And  finallj^  he  promised  that  he  would  send 
among  them  a  man  of  wisdom  and  experience,  in  whom  they 
would  at  once  have  confidence.  The  gathering  closed  about 
sunset  with  the  usual  giving  of  thanks  and  war-dancing. 

Next  day  the  Government  party  left,  and  the  chiefs  and 
people  returned  to  their  homes,  and  so  on  this  second  day  of 
September,  1904,  we  saw  the  days  of  unchecked  lawlessness 
pass  away  for  ever,  and  the  country  come  under  a  strong 
and  paternal  British  Government. 

Perhaps  I  should  record  that  after  the  Commissioner 
returned  to  Zomba  he  wrote  to  me.    "  I  know  well  that  we 


MR.   H.   C.   MACDONALD  243. 

could  not  have  arrived  at  such  satisfactory  results  but  for 
your  previous  excellent  work  in  the  country." 

No  one  was  so  relieved  as  we  missionaries  were.  We  occupied 
an  unpleasant  and  anomalous  position  in  this  tribe  which 
acknowledged  no  resident  authority,  and  we  were  con- 
stantly in  danger  of  getting  into  unhappy  misunderstandings 
either  with  the  people  or  with  the  administration  ;  at  the 
same  time  we  saw  with  distress  many  people  being  oppressed 
and  grievously  wronged  by  their  stronger  enemies,  and  could 
show  them  no  way  of  redress.  The  coming  of  a  resident 
magistrate  removed  all  these  difficulties,  and  allowed  us  freer 
minds  for  concentrating  on  our  first  work. 

Shortly  after  this,  Mr.  H.  C.  Macdonald  was  sent  to  ad- 
minister the  affairs  of  the  tribe,  and  he  has  been  here  ever 
since.  The  Governor  could  not  have  made  a  better  choice,  for 
he  sent  a  man  whose  colonial  life  has  taught  him  to  appreciate 
the  independent  spirit  of  the  Ngoni,  and  to  respect  their 
institutions.  He  is  also  possessed  of  infinite  patience,  and 
a  distinct  kindliness  to  the  people.  And  we  have  been 
pecviliarly  favoured  by  the  succession  of  assistant  collectors 
who  have  been  sent  here,  and  who  have  for  short  periods 
controlled  the  affairs  at  the  Boma  when  the  magistrate  was 
on  leave,  or  have  assisted  him  when  in  the  country.  They 
have  consistently  showed  the  estimable  qualities  of  justice, 
and  of  appreciation  of  the  best  in  native  life. 

It  has  greatly  facilitated  the  adjustment  of  civil  matters, 
and  increased  the  loyalty  of  the  people  to  the  British  Govern- 
ment that  one  official,  accessible  and  sympathetic,  has  been 
left  in  charge  for  many  years.  He  has  become  known  and 
trusted,  and  is  the  visible  representative  of  the  administra- 
tion. The  native  cannot  be  expected  to  appreciate  the  justice 
or  power  of  an  impersonal  Government  which  is  not  repre- 
sented in  any  known  individual.  The  present  system  of 
continually  rotating  the  magistrates  in  charge  of  other 
districts  in  Nyasaland  seems  to  me  to  be    wasteful    and 


244      AUTHORITY   OF   THE   CHIEFS 

full  of  weakness  and  danger.  No  official  has  time  to  know 
his  people  or  beeome  known  to  them  before  he  is  sent  to 
another  tribe  entirely  different  in  history  and  constitution, 
and  this  change  never  ends.  In  Ngoniland  we  have  been 
spared  it,  and  the  long  residence  of  Mr.  Macdonald  has 
helped  the  people  to  be  more  loyal,  and  to  come  to  him  to 
seek  advice  and  state  their  difficulties. 

For  the  ffi'st  year  no  taxes  were  imposed  on  the  tribe. 
But  on  the  second  year  the  usual  three-shilling  tax  was 
levied.  There  was  no  opposition  to  it,  although,  of  course, 
as  many  as  possible  tried  to  avoid  it,  and  like  good  British 
subjects,  every  one  grumbled  about  paying  it.  Last  year 
this  tax  yielded  over  three  thousand  pounds. 

The  chiefs  still  try  their  own  village  cases,  but  many  know 
that  they  are  surer  of  justice  at  the  hands  of  the  white  man, 
and  they  bring  their  cases  to  him.  On  the  monthly  court  days, 
the  subsidized  chiefs  take  their  turn  and  sit  two  at  a  time 
with  the  magistrate  as  assessors.  Unlike  most  Central  African 
tribes,  the  authority  of  the  chiefs  has  not  disappeared  with 
the  coming  of  a  white  magistrate.  Partly  from  long  usage 
and  loyalty,  partly  by  the  active  co-operation  of  Govern- 
ment, they  still  exercise  a  considerable  control  over  their 
people. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

THE    DEATH    OF    A    CHIEF 

THE  years  1907  and  1908  were  full  of  tragedy  to  the 
tribe,  for  one  after  another  the  old  notables  died, 
and  the  conspicuous  links  with  the  great  days  of 
the  past  were  broken  and  lost.  Some  of  these  deaths  were 
coincident  with  unusual  natural  phenomena,  and  it  was 
curious  to  see  how  these  served  to  strengthen  current  super- 
stition. For  example,  one  of  the  explanations  of  an  earth- 
quake is  that  the  dead  are  shouting  at  the  coming  of  a  great 
chief,  and  the  earth  trembles  at  his  welcome.  The  rumbling 
is  the  sound  of  their  cries  of  reverence. 

Now,  it  so  happened  that  on  the  day  we  landed  at  Bandawe 
in  August,  1907,  on  our  return  from  our  second  furlough  in 
Scotland,  there  was  an  unprecedented  series  of  earthquakes. 
In  twelve  hours  we  counted  about  twenty-two  tremors, 
and  frequently  they  were  so  violent  that  we  all  rushed  out 
of  our  houses  to  escape  the  danger  of  being  hurt  by  a  falling 
building.  When  we  got  up  to  the  hills  we  learned  that  there 
had  been  wild  alarm  among  the  Ngoni,  because  of  the  fre- 
quency and  violence  of  the  earthquakes  ;  and  on  that  day 
the  famous  old  warrior,  Ng'onomo,  had  died.  When  the 
news  of  his  death  spread  through  the  land  there  was  no 
difficulty  in  explaining  the  recent  fearful  occurrences. 

Two  or  three  months  after,  when  it  was  the  height  of  the 
dry  season,  and  the  weather  was  very  hot,  there  was  a  violent 
shower  of  hailstones  one  day,  and  the  same  evening  a  mes- 
senger came  in  to  announce  the  death  of  Maurau,  a  brother 

245 


246  AN  ANGRY  RELATIVE 

of  Mombera  and  a  great  chief  in  our  neighbourhood.  The 
hailstorm  was  at  once  explained  by  their  belief  that  some 
portent  happens  when  a  great  chief  dies. 

On  hearing  of  Maurau's  death,  I  went  out  to  express  my 
grief.  His  district  is  about  twelve  miles  from  this  station. 
All  the  way  along  I  was  surprised  to  find  every  village 
deserted,  and  all  the  possessions  of  the  people  carried  away. 
When  I  asked  for  an  explanation  of  this,  I  was  told  that  it 
was  for  fear  of  the  depredations  that  might  be  committed 
by  mourning  parties  going  to  the  funeral.  And,  indeed,  the 
precautions  were  necessary,  for  we  found  that  we  had  been 
preceded  by  more  than  one  company,  and  goats  had  been 
lifted,  houses  broken  into,  and  some  unfortunate  people 
grievously  hurt. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  village,  my  carriers  went  ahead  and 
stood  weeping  aloud,  and  then  we  all  passed  into  the  wide 
kraal.  Hundreds  of  men  were  sitting  round,  all  in  dead 
silence.  After  having  spoken  some  words  of  sympathy  to 
the  sons,  I  sat  down  among  the  men  and  waited  develop- 
ments. By  and  by,  some  one  came  in  to  the  kraal  and  made 
an  announcement  which  immediately  led  to  the  men  seizing 
their  shields  and  spears  and  filing  quickly  out  of  the  kraal 
until  only  a  few  of  us  were  left  with  the  chief  mourners. 
Soon  I  saw  that  on  all  the  ant-hills  armed  men  were  standing, 
looking  down  the  valley.  I  asked  what  was  the  cause  of  the 
excitement,  and  was  told  that  a  certain  relative  of  the  dead 
chief,  a  man  of  notorious  violence,  was  said  to  be  nearing 
the  village,  and  that  he  was  coming  "  in  wrath  "  to  avenge 
the  death  of  the  chief.  So  the  men  had  got  out  of  the 
kraal  in  order  that  if  there  should  be  a  fight,  it  might,  at 
least,  be  in  the  open.  The  rumour  of  his  arrival,  however, 
proved  to  be  premature.  Instead  of  him  there  came  our 
local  chief  and  friend,  Muzuku-zuku. 

After  I  had  spent  some  hours  in  the  broiling  sun,  I  rose 
to  go  home,  but  first  talked  with  Muzuku-zuku  and  asked 


A  SICK  CHIEF  247 

him  to  do  his  best  to  prevent  any  violence.  His  interven- 
tion was  soon  required,  for  shortly  after  my  departure  the 
angry  relative  arrived,  accompanied  by  a  long  procession 
of  his  people,  and  prepared  to  exhibit  his  loyalty  to  the  dead 
by  fighting.  Before  long,  the  villagers  and  his  people  were 
at  one  another,  and  several  light  spears  were  thrown.  But 
Muzuku-zuku  rushed  in  between  the  contending  parties 
and  compelled  the  relative  to  stop  his  disturbance,  and  enter 
the  kraal  as  a  peaceable  mourner. 

This  was  the  first  time  I  had  witnessed  the  wild  scenes 
that  are  apt  to  arise  on  the  death  of  a  prominent  chief. 
Of  course,  it  is  part  of  the  system  of  a  barbarous  society 
which  makes  the  life  of  the  ruler  sacred,  and  surrounds  him 
with  customs  which  safeguard  him  from  the  dangers  of 
poisoning,  neglect,  or  treachery.  But  a  few  months  after  I 
was  to  see  the  whole  of  this  wild  barbarity  when  Muzuku-zuku 
himself  was  summoned  by  Death. 

He  had  been  seized  by  pneumonia.  Two  or  three  years 
before  my  wife  had  pulled  him  through  a  severe  attack  of 
the  same  disease.  It  had  been  a  grave  time  for  him,  because 
he  had  all  the  natural  disabilities  which  handicap  a  drunkard. 
But  the  memory  of  his  past  recovery  gave  him  a  pathetic 
confidence  in  my  wife,  and  he  sent  to  tell  her  of  his  sick- 
ness. When  she  went  out  and  examined  him,  she  saw 
there  was  no  hope  unless  he  came  to  the  station  and  put 
himself  under  her  immediate  nursing.  This  he  agreed  to  do, 
but  with  the  proviso  that  he  should  not  be  lodged  in  the 
hospital.  There  is  a  strong  prejudice  against  the  hospital, 
partly  because  so  many  men  who  have  gone  south  to  the 
Rhodesian  mines  have  died  in  hospital,  and  partly  because 
of  the  fear  that  as  the  beds  and  blankets  of  those  who  have 
died  under  treatment  are  not  burned  or  buried  with  the  dead, 
they  may  be  used  again  for  the  living.  Accordingly  we  pre- 
pared another  little  house  for  the  sick  chief,  and  refusing 
to  be  carried,  weak  as  he  was,  he  walked  in  to  the  station. 


248  A  SICK  CHIEF 

On  Sunday  he  was  dangerously  ill.  When  I  went  along 
to  see  him  at  nine  o'clock  he  was  sitting  up,  leaning  against 
one  of  his  wives,  breathing  with  difficulty,  and  with  a  very 
feeble  pulse.  The  room  was  full  of  his  wives  and  sons  and 
others  ;  nearly  thirty  people  had  crowded  in,  and  he  was 
giving  them  farewell  messages,  while  all  wept.  With  some 
difficulty  we  got  most  of  the  crowd  to  go  outside,  and  let 
fresh  air  in. 

The  station  was  full  of  people  who  had  come  to  worship, 
but  all  were  sitting  in  silent,  depressed  groups.  I  felt  it 
impossible  to  preach,  but  I  told  Muzuku-zuku  we  would  go 
to  the  church  and  pray  for  him.  So  we  had  a  short  service, 
during  which  many  of  the  people  prayed  aloud  for  their  chief. 

When  we  came  out  of  church,  my  wife  met  me,  and 
reported  a  slight  improvement  in  his  condition.  But  all 
day  she  sat  with  him  except  for  short  intervals  when  I 
relieved  her.  He  was  very  restless,  and  breathing  pain- 
fully. Frequently  he  charged  certain  people  with  poisoning 
him,  and  laid  the  blame  of  his  sickness  on  those  who  had 
been  concerned  in  the  sin  of  one  of  his  daughters,  who  had 
recently  died  in  childbirth.  I  prayed  with  him,  and  tried 
to  speak  to  him  about  eternal  things,  and  he  always  joined 
with  me  in  praj^er.  One  time  he  murmured,  "  God  is  al- 
mighty, and  He  will  hear  our  prayers  if  we  would  only 
believe."  It  was  pathetic  to  hear  him  cry  to  my  wife, 
"  Save  me  !  Save  me  !  "  And  one  time  he  looked  out  to- 
wards the  church  and  said  with  some  hope,  "  Fraser  is  in 
the  church  praying  for  me." 

In  the  afternoon,  Mombera's  sister,  whose  regent  Muzu- 
ku-zuku was,  arrived,  and  to  her  he  again  repeated  his 
charges  of  witchcraft.  The  head  induna  sat  very  silent, 
making  no  remark  and  listening  to  everything.  But  when 
he  went  out  of  the  room  I  heard  him  shouting  with  venom 
at  the  induna,  whose  people  had  been  charged.  "  It's  you 
who  have  killed  him,  you  sorcerers." 


TURBULENT  SCENES  249 

Next  morning  the  crisis  was  over  and  the  patient  was 
quieter,  and  when  my  wife  came  to  the  house  for  lunch  at 
midday  she  was  hopeful,  and  thought  that  with  rest  he 
should  do  well.  But  she  had  no  sooner  left  him  than  visitors 
began  to  crowd  in  again  and  arouse  fresh  excitement  in 
him,  with  the  result  that  shortly  after,  we  were  startled  by 
one  of  his  men  coming  running  to  us  to  say  that  Muzuku-zuku 
was  dead.  We  hurried  along  to  the  house,  and  there  found 
his  wives  round  him  weeping,  and  closing  his  eyes  and 
mouth. 

There  was  nothing  more  that  we  could  do,  and  my  wife 
returned  home,  while  I  wandered  about  the  station.  Pre- 
sently, we  saw  the  sons  coming  along  from  the  village  at 
a  quick  trot  with  their  hands  clasped  behind  their  backs,  and 
weeping  aloud.  A  little  in  their  rear  came  several  of  the 
villagers,  all  wailing  noisily.  As  soon  as  they  began  to  enter 
the  room  I  noticed  one  of  my  joiners  seizing  their  spears 
and  clubs  and  taking  them  forcibly  from  them.  Then  I 
realized  that  there  was  danger  of  violence,  and  I  hurried 
along  to  the  little  house  where  the  body  was  lying. 

By  this  time  the  noisy,  wailing  crowd  was  gathering  about 
the  door.  Presently  the  eldest  son  came  out  raving  wildly, 
four  men  holding  on  to  him.  They  struggled  together. 
Blood  was  coming  from  his  mouth  and  he  was  in  a  state  of 
ungovernable  passion  of  grief  and  rage.  I  spoke  to  him 
and  laying  my  hand  on  his  shoulder  tried  to  quiet  him. 
For  a  moment  he  was  still,  but  as  soon  as  I  turned  from  him 
he  was  off  again  in  a  wild  struggle,  the  men  holding  on  to 
him  desperately,  and  rolling  over  and  over  on  the  ground  as 
they  struggled  with  his  unnatural  strength. 

Wliile  this  wild  scene  was  going  on,  I  saw  a  young  man 
coming  up  the  road,  dragging  along  four  others  who  were 
trying  to  control  him.  To  my  horror  I  recognised  the  young 
chief  whose  suzerainty  Muzuku-zuku  acknowledged.  He 
was  raving  like  a  madman,  foaming  at  the  mouth,  and 


250  TURBULENT  SCENES 

shouting  incoherently.  In  this  condition  he  made  his  way 
into  the  house,  and  presently  came  out  more  violent  than 
ever. 

Meanwhile,  the  excitement  outside  was  getting  worse 
and  worse.  Women  were  rolling  in  the  dust,  wailing  aloud. 
Wild  groups  were  struggling  with  youths,  frantic  with  grief 
and  rage.  Some  were  shouting  that  the  chief  had  been 
killed,  others  were  trying  to  get  back  the  spears  of  which 
they  had  been  deprived.  And  the  mad  noise  was  dreadful. 
Two  or  three  of  my  elders  went  into  the  house  and  told  the 
people  to  get  the  body  removed  to  the  village  at  once.  So 
in  a  few  minutes  it  was  put  into  a  hammock  and  the  bearers 
went  off  at  a  quick  trot.  After  them  the  whole  company  of 
the  mourners  followed,  wailing  dreadfully,  and  with  them 
went  the  sons  and  others  still  struggling  with  those  who 
would  restrain  them,  or  being  carried  off  in  a  collapsed 
condition  by  their  sympathizers.  They  went  first  to  the 
head  village,  the  village  of  the  chief's  dead  mother,  and 
laid  the  body  in  her  hut  there. 

I  would  have  followed  with  the  others  at  once,  but  was 
advised  to  wait  a  little.  While  I  was  still  impatiently  waiting, 
one  of  the  men  who  had  been  accused  of  sorcery  came  to 
me,  along  with  his  brother. 

"  They  will  kill  my  brother,"  he  said.  "  If  they  strike 
him,  I  will  strike  back." 

"No,  you  won't,"  I  said,  "j'ou  will  keep  out  of  the  road, 
and  be  quiet." 

He  stood  still  and  then  answered,  "  There  you  puzzle 
me.  Must  I  not  defend  him  ?  How  can  I  allow  him  to  be 
killed  ?  " 

But  he  quietly  obeyed,  and  stayed  on  the  station.  Around 
these  two,  especially,  the  whole  storm  was  raging.  They 
had  been  accused  of  assisting  the  daughter  who  had  gone 
wrong.  And  the  case  was  still  being  talked  when  the  chief 
was  taken  ill.     It  lay  heavy  on  his  spirits,  and  again  and 


TURBULENT  SCENES  251 

again  he  accused  them  of  causing  his  death,  for  in  the 
native  mind  there  is  a  deep  connection  between  moral 
offence  and  physical  evil.  And  when  a  dying  chief  accuses 
others  of  bewitching  him  and  causing  his  death,  no  mercy 
is  likely  to  be  shown  to  the  accused.  In  the  old  days  they 
and  all  their  connections  would  instantly  have  been  put 
to  death. 

I  now  followed  the  procession  quickly,  for  I  saw  that 
there  would  be  fighting  in  the  village.  As  I  entered  it  the 
first  man  I  saw  was  the  chief  induna  gesticulating  wildly 
and  bringing  vehement  accusations.  I  put  my  hand  on  him 
and  told  him  to  be  quiet  and  to  quieten  the  people,  or  the 
Government  would  hold  him  responsible  for  any  harm  that 
might  be  done.  In  a  moment  he  obeyed,  and  went  along 
with  me. 

Around  the  hut  where  the  dead  chief  was  lying  hundreds 
of  people  were  wailing  and  shrieking.  Now  and  then  some 
of  the  sons  would  dash  wildly  about  shouting  for  their  spears, 
while  some  of  the  Christians  gripped  their  arms  and  tried  to 
restrain  them.  At  one  point  one  of  them  got  hold  of  a  spear, 
and  he  swung  about  dragging  with  him  half  a  dozen  men 
who  tried  to  take  it  from  him.  I  tried  to  speak  to  him  and 
make  him  give  it  up,  but  he  would  not  listen. 

At  last,  with  the  help  of  my  elders,  I  got  all  the  sons  and 
the  chief  induna  to  come  apart  that  I  might  speak  to  them. 
I  told  them,  when  we  had  sat  down,  that  if  they  had  any 
charges  to  make  against  any  one  they  must  reserve  them 
and  be  quiet,  and  after  the  funeral  a  full  inquiry  could  be 
made.  But  meanwhile  this  noise  would  not  bring  back  their 
father  to  life,  and  if  blood  was  shed  now  it  would  not  quickly 
be  stopped.  After  a  little  quiet  talking  they  promised  to 
behave  themselves.  All  the  time  the  air  was  rent  by  the 
continuous  crying  of  hundreds  of  people,  and  as  others  from 
the  near  villages  joined  them  the  noise  became  wilder  and 
wilder.     The  eldest  son  now  sat  quietly  weeping  beyond 


252  A  TORNADO  OF  PASSION 

the  surging  crowd,  and  I  sat  beside  him  trying  to  calm  him. 
Once  or  twice  the  old  induna  came  along,  and  kissed  the 
lad  and  wept  aloud,  and  then  rolled  at  my  feet  and  lay 
there  sobbing. 

The  announcement  of  the  death  having  now  been  made 
by  bearing  the  corpse  to  the  village  of  the  chief's  mother, 
the  people  proceeded  to  take  it  forth  again  and  carry  it  to 
his  own  village,  where  it  would  be  buried.  The  distance 
was  only  a  few  hundred  yards,  and  thither  the  whole  multi- 
tude followed.  When  the  body  had  been  laid  in  the  hut  of 
his  chief  wife  the  wailing  rose  noisier  than  ever.  How  much 
of  it  was  genuine  grief,  how  much  the  contagion  of  hysteria, 
one  could  not  say.  But  the  strenuous  efforts  of  some  people 
to  cry  with  great  bitterness  only  emphasized  the  fact  that 
they  had  been  involved  in  the  suspicions,  and  were  weeping 
out  of  defence  to  show  that  they  were  as  sorry  as  any. 
I  pitied  them  badly,  for  there  was  terror  in  theiT  crying. 

Presently  I  saw  a  wild  commotion  in  one  corner.  Women 
were  tearing  at  some  poor  creature,  men  were  pushing  for- 
ward with  their  clubs  to  get  a  stroke  at  her,  and  I  rushed 
among  them  to  stop  them.  It  was  a  wife  of  the  chief, 
mother  of  the  poor  girl  who  had  died  in  childbirth.  She,  too, 
had  been  accused  of  complicity,  her  presence  in  the  wailing 
crowd  had  caused  some  excitement,  and  they  were  trying  to 
kill  her.  A  bodyguard  of  Christians  were  round  her  defending 
her,  but  she  had  received  some  ugly  wounds.  We  got  her 
out  of  the  tornado  of  passion,  and  sent  her  away  under 
charge  of  some  of  the  Christians  to  be  in  safe  keeping  on 
our  station,  and  get  attended  to  by  my  wife. 

At  last  I  demanded  silence,  and  asked  that  the  wailing 
should  stop  for  a  time.  With  vigorous  shouting  the  men 
got  the  female  part  subdued,  and  then  I  spoke  a  few  words, 
urging  them  to  keep  the  peace  and  control  themselves.  And 
then  I  prayed.  After  this  the  scene  quieted  down,  perhaps 
from  the  sheer  reaction  of  exhaustion,  and  I  returned  home, 


CALMING  THE  PEOPLE  253 

well  assured  that  the  worst  was  over  and  there  would  be  no 
more  riot  in  the  village. 

Next  morning  early  I  was  back  among  them.  The  loud 
weeping  was  still  going  on.  The  kraal  was  filled  with  men, 
and  every  few  minutes  new  mourning  parties  were  arriving. 
I  spoke  with  some  of  the  church  ciders  and  suggested  that 
I  should  call  all  the  Christians  together  and  remind  them 
that  they  must  be  peacemakers  and  make  no  charges  against 
any  one.  But  they  said,  "  You  need  not  speak  to  the 
Christians.  None  of  them  broke  the  peace,  or  made  any 
charges.    Speak  with  the  old  men  and  the  sons." 

So  I  went  to  the  kraal  and  talked  with  them,  explaining 
the  natural  and  simple  causes  of  the  death,  and  warned 
them  against  making  any  charges  against  others  which  they 
could  not  substantiate,  and  urged  on  them  their  duty  of 
keeping  the  people  quiet.  To  all  this  they  agreed.  But  they 
denied  charging  any  one,  though  I  told  them  that  with  my 
own  ears  I  had  heard  them  doing  so.  They  said  that  the 
people  who  had  fled  were  their  own  accusers.  Why  had 
they  fled  if  their  hearts  did  not  condemn  them  ?  But  they 
gave  their  word  that  they  would  keep  the  village  in  control, 
and  with  this  I  returned  home.  A  goodly  number  of  people 
had  taken  refuge  on  the  station  till  the  danger  of  violence 
should  be  gone.  And  numbers  of  others  were  coming  in 
carrying  great  loads  of  household  belongings  which  they 
wished  us  to  keep  for  them  until  the  funeral  parties  had 
passed. 

Meanwhile  the  basukuru  (i.e.  those  who  had  held  the  body 
in  death,  and  were  now  constituted  the  priests  of  the  de- 
parted spirit)  had  washed  the  face  of  the  dead  chief.  A  cow 
had  been  killed  in  the  kraal,  and  carefully  flayed  so  that  its 
entire  skin  formed  a  bag,  and  into  this  the  corpse  had  been 
put.  The  flesh  of  the  cow  was  burned  that  this  savoury 
smell  might  cover  the  smell  of  decomposition  which  had 
already  set  in.     Messengers  had  been  sent  to  all  the  great 


254  FUNERAL  RITES 

chiefs  to  announce  the  death.  And  the  people  prepared 
themselves  against  reprisals  of  any  chief  who  might  come 
to  avenge  the  death.  All  the  men  sat  in  the  kraal,  their 
spears  and  shields  beside  them,  and  there  they  slept  each 
night  ready  for  action.  In  all  the  neighbouring  villages  the 
men  did  likewise,  that  if  the  central  kraal  was  attacked  they 
might  come  to  the  rescue.  From  the  routes  that  the  great 
chiefs  might  take  the  people  fled  and  took  with  them  their 
belongings,  for  by  native  custom  no  guilt  attaches  to  thefts, 
and  even  murders,  committed  by  the  passing  mourners. 
But  little  violence  was  done,  for  now  the  British  Govern- 
ment were  administering  the  land,  and  their  presence  over- 
awed some  who  would  uphold  the  old  traditions. 

On  Monday  evening  I  had  sent  to  the  Boma,  about 
eighteen  miles  off,  to  inform  Mr.  Macdonald,  the  magistrate, 
of  the  death  of  the  chief  and  the  somewhat  high  feeling  that 
threatened  disorder.  And  he  had  immediately  come  through 
to  express  his  sympathy  with  the  villagers,  and  that  his 
presence  might  make  for  order.  But  it  was  not  till  Thursday 
that  the  grave  was  finished  and  all  the  necessary  arrange- 
ments completed.  The  place  for  the  grave  Avas  pointed  out 
by  the  eldest  daughter  of  the  head  wife,  whose  sons  were 
all  dead.  And  thus  the  succession  was  claimed  for  her 
house.  It  was  dug  within  the  kraal  right  opposite  the 
house  where  the  body  lay,  and  the  kraal  fence  between  had 
been  broken  down. 

When  Mr.  Macdonald  and  I  went  up  to  the  village  we 
found  that  they  were  still  awaiting  the  representatives  of 
the  paramount  chief  before  they  could  go  on  with  the  burial. 
Had  it  taken  place  before  he  or  his  representatives  arrived, 
there  would  have  been  a  serious  quarrel.  But  after  being 
awaited  some  time  they  appeared  under  the  leadership  of 
Mombera's  old  prime  minister. 

As  each  party  of  mourners  arrived  they  walked  round 
to  the  house  where  the  body  was,  and  raising  their  shields 


BURIAL  255 

above  their  heads  they  cried  in  a  heartrending  wail,  "  My 
father  !  my  father  !  "  Then  they  went  into  the  kraal  and, 
looking  towards  the  grave,  repeated  the  same  long  cry, 
and  when  they  had  wept  for  some  minutes  they  sat  down 
silently  near  the  kraal  fence.  Outside  all  the  cattle  from 
all  the  villages  of  the  chief  had  been  gathered  together 
and  left  there  that  they  might  weep  for  their  master. 
The  little  grass  peaks,  that  look  like  diminutive  chimneys, 
had  been  taken  off  the  roofs  of  all  the  chief's  houses,  to 
indicate  that  the  village  was  destroyed  now  that  its  head 
had  gone. 

We  sat  down  on  the  great  ant-hill  in  the  kraal  and  patiently 
waited  for  the  burial.  Below  us  was  the  grave.  It  was  dug 
very  wide  at  the  start,  perhaps  twelve  feet  wide,  and  ter- 
raced down  in  a  series  of  platforms  which  were  to  be  used 
as  a  ladder  into  the  grave.  From  the  bottom  a  tunnel  had 
been  dug  stretching  under  the  kraal.  When  all  was  finished 
the  hard  red  earth  of  the  floor  and  roof  of  the  tvmnel  was 
carefully  scraped  and  cleaned.  Meanwhile  we  could  see  a 
number  of  dramatic  acts  going  on  about  the  death  hut. 
The  widows  were  moving  slowly  about  on  their  hands  and 
knees,  following  one  another  like  four-footed  beasts,  their 
heads  bound  up  in  white  cloths  that  covered  their  hair  and 
forehead,  and  all  ornaments  had  been  stripped  from  their 
bodies.  Then  the  daughters  of  the  chief  came  out  of  the 
hut  dressed  with  the  dancing  gear  of  their  father.  Wailing 
piteously,  they  flung  themselves  down  at  the  mouth  of  the 
grave,  and  a  great  cry  went  up  from  the  women  in  the 
village.  When  the  girls  had  returned  to  the  hut  the  widows 
issued  forth.  They  were  dressed  with  their  husband's  war 
ornaments.  One  had  on  his  head-dress  of  cock  feathers, 
others  his  hip  tails,  others  carried  his  shield  and  clubs,  and 
the  daughter  of  the  head  wife  carried  his  spear.  They 
capered  about,  clumsily  imitating  his  war  dance,  and  inti- 
mating how  fierce  a  warrior  now  lay  dead.     And  so  they 


256  BURIAL 

approached  the  grave  and  threw  themselves  down  at  its 
mouth  weeping,  and  again  the  great  sore  cry  went  up  from 
the  women. 

A  number  of  men  now  went  into  the  hut  and  bore  forth 
the  corpse.  It  was  wrapped  tightly  in  a  blanket  which 
covered  the  cow-hide  bag  in  which  it  was  laid,  and  the  smell 
of  putrefaction  was  very  offensive.  The  bundle  was  laid  at 
the  entrance  to  the  grave,  while  a  long  procession  carrying 
all  the  chief's  belongings  assembled.  They  brought  his 
shields  and  spears  and  war  accoutrements,  his  musical  in- 
struments, clothes,  dishes,  stools,  sleeping  pillows,  every- 
thing he  had  used,  and  laid  them  near  the  grave.  Then  the 
body  was  lowered  and  placed  in  the  tunnel  in  a  sitting 
posture,  the  face  looking  to  the  south' — to  the  land  from 
which  the  fathers  of  the  chief  had  come. 

Now  the  various  belongings  were  torn  into  shreds,  and 
what  would  not  tear  was  hacked  to  pieces  with  an  axe  and 
all  placed  around  the  body.  It  was  a  process  which  lasted 
for  hours.  While  it  was  still  going  on  one  of  the  brothers 
of  the  chief  stood  up  to  weep.  Immediately  all  the  men 
rose  and,  holding  their  shields  over  their  heads,  cried  aloud, 
"  My  father  !  my  father  !  "  For  many  minutes  they  con- 
tinued, the  tears  pouring  down  their  faces.  And  so  heart- 
rending a  scene  was  it  that  neither  of  us  Europeans  could 
get  down  the  choking  lumps  in  our  throats.  The  women  in 
the  village  joined  in  the  cry,  and  for  miles  around  it  could 
be  heard  :    "  My  father  !   my  father  !  " 

And  all  the  time  the  hacking  up  of  the  goods  and  their 
burial  was  going  on. 

When  the  people  began  to  sit  down  again,  exhausted  with 
the  violence  of  their  grief,  I  asked  for  silence,  and  read  some 
passages  of  Scripture  and  prayed.  And  while  I  was  engaged 
there  was  a  dead  silence  over  the  multitude. 

After  this  little  service  was  over  we  rose  and  left.  As  we 
walked  together  to  the  station,  nearly  a  mile  and  a  half 


BURIAL  257 

away,  we  could  still  hear  the  crying  behind  us  all  through 
our  walk. 

I  do  not  intend  to  describe  all  that  was  done  afterwards. 
This  was  an  Ngoni  burial,  and  the  customs  of  it  are  those 
that  came  with  them  from  the  south,  and  may  be  found  in 
any  book  that  describes  the  stereotyped  ritual  of  the  Kaffir. 
I  shall  only  mention  one  or  two  of  the  main  acts. 

When  all  was  ready  for  the  grave  being  filled  the  sons 
of  the  chief  were  called  up,  and  each  dropped  a  handful 
of  earth  into  the  grave,  and  then  the  people  gathered  round 
its  edges  and  pushed  the  earth  in  until  it  was  filled.  A  fence 
of  small  stakes  was  built  around  the  heap  of  earth  and  stones 
that  closed  in  the  resting-place  of  the  chief,  and  then  all 
went  to  the  river  to  wash. 

But  for  days  afterwards  the  sons  and  relatives  slept  in 
the  open  kraal  beside  the  grave  of  their  chief,  ready  at  any 
moment  to  defend  it.  And  all  day  they  remained  in  the 
kraal  together  waiting  for  the  return  of  messengers  of  the 
chiefs  who  were  sent  again  to  comfort  them. 

Within  the  hut  of  the  chief  wife  the  widows  slept  together. 
They  busied  themselves  making  long  cords  of  bark  which 
they  bound  into  a  widow's  cap  for  their  heads,  and  twisted 
into  long  strings  to  hang  about  their  necks.  When  they 
moved  about  the  village  it  was  with  a  slow,  sad  step,  with 
bowed  bodies,  and  with  their  hands  clasped  behind  their 
backs. 

A  "  doctor  "  was  called  to  kill  a  cow  and  make  medicine  to 
strengthen  the  young  sons  against  the  attack  of  disease. 
And  its  skin  was  cut  into  bracelets  for  the  widows  to  wear. 

A  month  or  two  after  another  cow  was  killed,  and  sacrifice 
made  to  the  spirit  of  the  departed  chief.  And  a  great  ox 
was  set  apart  to  be  the  dwelling-place  of  his  spirit,  that  he 
might  live  within  his  own  village. 

And  Avhen  a  year  had  passed,  with  great  drinking  of  beer 
and  beating  of  drums,  the  widows  put  off  their  mourning, 

R 


258  BURIAL 

And  when  another  year  had  passed,  the  chiefs  and  great 
men  were  called  together  that  they  might  choose  what 
widows  were  willing  to  go  to  them  to  be  their  wives. 

For  long  after  the  villagers  lived  like  those  who  had 
lost  a  father.  There  was  a  pathetic  air  of  orphanage  about 
them,  and  only  the  good  the  chief  had  done  was  remem- 
bered ;  the  terror  of  his  wild  outbursts,  before  which  many 
of  them  had  trembled,  was  forgotten. 


CHAPTER  XXV 
EVANGELIZING 

THE  vast  majority  of  the  converts  to  Christianity  in 
Ngoniland  have  been  won  not  by  the  immediate 
agency  of  the  Europeans,  but  of  the  natives  them- 
selves. It  is  necessary  for  a  healthy  propagation  that  this 
service  should  not  be  delegated  to  foreigners,  but  should  be 
the  natural  energy  of  the  life  of  the  church  itself.  There  is 
something  seriously  wrong  with  the  religion  of  the  man  who 
has  been  lifted  out  of  heathenism  if  it  does  not  exercise 
an  unconscious  influence  on  his  community,  as  well  as 
compel  him  to  declare  articulately  to  the  heathen  around 
him  the  greatness  of  the  salvation  that  has  come  to  him. 
A  spiritual  laity  must  necessarily  be  as  lights  in  a  dark 
world. 

From  the  earliest  days  we  have  sought  to  enlist  the  ser- 
vices of  those  who  have  themselves  learned.  Intelligent 
youths  who  could  read  were  told  to  teach  others  the  alpha- 
bet ;  some  voluntary  work  was  found  for  every  earnest 
Christian.  Consequently  a  vast  number  of  simple  agencies 
for  the  spread  of  our  faith  was  set  a-going,  and  it  is  to  these 
primarily  that  we  must  trace  the  great  spread  of  Christian 
truth  in  the  land. 

Schools  have  been  the  great  pioneers  of  Christianity. 
They  have  grown  at  a  somewhat  alarming  pace,  for  now 
there  are  nearly  two  hundred  of  them  established  among 
the  Ngoni.  Of  course,  the  reader  must  relieve  his  mind  of 
all  European  standards  of  education  when  he  thinks  of  these 

359 


260  NATIVE  TEACHERS 

primitive  educational  institutions,  for  we  are  not  far  yet  from 
the  elementary  stages  in  their  evolution. 

When  I  came  out  first  a  goodly  part  of  the  schools  then 
in  existence  were  not  even  housed.  The  scholars  met  at  the 
gate  of  the  cattle  kraal  or  in  some  tidied  open  space.  Vil- 
lagers could  pass  their  idle  time  sitting  about  on  the  out- 
skirts, amusing  themselves  with  what  they  reckoned  the 
eccentricities  of  the  teachers  and  pupils.  Goats  and  sheep 
charged  into  the  classes,  distracting  all  attention,  and  some- 
times a  snarling  couple  of  dogs  preparing  for  combat 
would  send  a  class  flying.  In  these  days  schools  were  little 
more  than  tolerated,  and  villagers  were  still  unwilling  to 
make  any  sacrifice  for  the  possession  of  educational  facilities. 
At  first  we  had  to  beg  chiefs  to  allow  us  to  open  a  school, 
but  the  day  soon  came  when  chiefs  came  to  us,  at  the  insti- 
gation of  their  people,  to  beg  us  to  send  teachers  to  them. 
This  desire  for  education  allowed  us  to  force  on  the  spirit 
of  self-help,  and  now  we  are  able  to  refuse  to  start  a  school 
until-the  people  agree  to  erect  their  own  building  and  keep 
it  in  repair,  to  pay  a  slight  fee  for  education,  and  to  buy 
their  own  books. 

Our  teachers  are  native  lads  who  have  been  trained  in 
the  village  school.  They  begin  work  when  they  have 
reached  the  stage  of  being  able  to  read  the  vernacular 
fluently,  to  do  simple  arithmetic,  and  to  write.  Then  they 
are  enrolled  as  monitors,  and  are  paid  perhaps  one  and  six- 
pence a  month.  Year  by  year  these  junior  helpers  are  taught 
by  their  senior  teacher,  and  he  in  turn  is  helped  forward 
partly  by  a  highly-trained  teacher  from  the  Institution  and 
partly  by  attendance  for  a  month  at  the  annual  teachers' 
school  at  the  European  station.  The  average  senior  teacher 
does  not  get  more  than  five  or  six  shillings  a  month  in  pay. 
That  seems  an  absurdly  small  figure,  but  we  must  remember 
that  school  is  only  held  for  seven  or  eight  months  in  the  year, 
and  that  in  the  other  months  the  teacher  is  engaged  in  pre- 


NATIVE  TEACHERS  261 

paring  his  own  garden  and  attending  to  his  village  duties. 
He  has  therefore  a  house  and  sufficient  food-stuffs  for  the 
year,  apart  from  anything  he  may  earn  as  a  teacher,  and  his 
wealth  in  cash  is  in  excess  of  that  of  the  ordinary  villager. 

To  superintend  the  great  network  of  schools  connected 
with  a  single  European  station  it  has  been  necessary  to 
divide  the  whole  are^nto  groups  of  twelve  or  fifteen  schools. 
Each  of  these  groups  is  placed  under  the  superintendence  of 
a  highly-trained  schoolmaster  who  has  taken  a  full  normal 
course  at  the  Institution,  and  he  constantly  moves  about 
his  circuit,  guiding  the  efforts  of  the  village  teacher  and  re- 
porting every  month  in  detail  to  the  European. 

One  must  acknowledge  that  the  schools  are  still  far  from 
ideal.  The  teachers  are  not  yet  able  to  use  their  educational 
opportunities,  and  an  adequate  supply  of  material  for 
efficient  teaching  is  not  provided.  The  chief  value  of  these 
village  schools  is  a  religious  one.  All  who  conduct  them  are 
professing  Christians,  and  they  permeate  their  teaching  with 
religious  instruction  and  worship.  In  the  earlier  days 
especially,  they  were  far  in  advance  of  the  other  natives  in 
character  and  outlook.  Their  abstention  from  beer  and  evil 
dances,  their  emancipation  from  superstition  and  fear  of  the 
witch  doctor,  their  bodily  cleanliness  and  their  clothing,  all 
combined  to  raise  them  far  above  the  level  of  the  ordinary 
villager,  and  give  them  a  considerable  authority.  Day  by 
day  at  morning  service,  and  in  the  religious  instruction  of 
the  school,  they  were  able  to  teach  with  some  intelligence 
the  Bible  stories  and  the  life  of  Christ,  thereby  giving  to  the 
people  an  altogether  new  idea  of  God  and  the  relation  of 
men  to  Him. 

It  must  be  plain  to  the  reader  that  no  very  subtle  argu- 
ment is  necessary  to  present  the  Gospel  to  the  heathen  of 
these  regions.  The  barriers  which  evangelism  has  to  sur- 
mount are  not  so  much  those  of  faith  as  those  of  morals. 
There  is  no  organized  and  hoary  religious  system,  no  inter- 


262  EVANGELISTS 

ested  priestly  cult  to  oppose  the  message  we  bring.  Instead 
of  this  we  find  a  people  feeling  after  God,  and  deeply  con- 
scious that  a  thick  mist  hides  the  full  light  from  them.  Our 
attitude  is  not  that  of  the  iconoclast,  nor  do  we  call  their 
spirits  devils  and  their  prayers  blasphemies.  The  God, 
Maker  of  heaven  and  earth,  whom  they  named  but  could 
not  explain,  is  our  God,  and  we  teach  that  He  "  whom  they 
ignorantly  worshipped  "  is  fully  revealed  in  Christ  to  the 
obedient  heart. 

One  of  my  evangelists  was  holding  a  service  one  Sabbath 
in  a  village  near  Loudon,  and  finding  that  none  but  young 
people  were  present  he  went  to  the  kraal  gate  and  there 
found  all  the  old  men. 

"  Who  used  to  lead  the  worship  of  the  village  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  The  men,"  they  replied. 

"  How  is  it,  then,  that  to-day  I  find  none  but  young 
people  worshipping  ?  " 

"  We  do  not  understand  about  your  God.  It  is  all  new, 
and  we  have  not  learned." 

"  But  the  God  we  declare  is  the  God  you  worshipped. 
Come  and  honour  Him." 

"  We  thought  He  was  a  new  God  of  the  European.  Yes, 
we  will  come,"  they  answered.  And  from  that  day  they  were 
present  at  all  the  services,  devoutly  joining  in  the  worship. 

This  evangelist,  it  seems  to  me,  stated  an  essential  truth. 
The  God  whom  we  preach  is  not  a  new  European  deity, 
but  He  who  had  not  left  Himself  without  a  witness,  "  for 
the  invisible  things  of  Him  are  clearly  seen,  being  perceived 
through  the  things  that  are  made,  even  His  everlasting 
power  and  divinity."  And  as  we  proceed  to  open  up  many 
another  eternal  truth  we  shall  find  in  native  faith  not  a  few 
seedlings,  dwarfed  and  sickly  indeed,  yet  the  beginnings  of 
those  great  spreading  trees  which  shall  attain  their  sym- 
metry and  fruitfulness  in  the  clearer  light  of  the  Gospel. 

To  the  truth  of  the  moral  law  I  do  not  think  we  ever 


EFFECTS   OF  THE  TEACHING      263 

find  contradiction.  It  is  already  reasonable  to  the  native, 
and  often  one  has  heard  the  old  people  utter  emphatic 
approval,  especially  of  the  fifth  and  seventh  commandments. 
Of  course,  verbal  assent  is  often  given  to  laws  to  which 
conduct  has  not  become  conformed,  and  then  the  law  is  sore 
and  unpopular. 

On  one  occasion  a  teacher  was  speaking  on  the  seventh 
commandment  when  a  man  in  the  audience  cried  out  : 

"  You  lie ;  these  words  are  not  written  in  the  book  !  " 

"  Yes,  they  are,"  he  answered  ;  "  and  if  you  do  not  keep 
this  commandment  God  holds  you  guilty." 

"  You  lie,"  cried  the  man  angrily,  "  and  if  you  will  not 
be  quiet  I  shall  burn  down  the  school,"  and  with  this  threat 
he  rushed  out  of  the  building  in  a  great  passion. 

Next  morning  he  came  to  the  teacher  very  humbly  to 
confess  his  sin.  He  had  been  guilty  of  a  grave  breach  of 
the  law,  and  the  words  spoken  were  hitting  him  so  pain- 
fully that  he  could  not  sit  quiet. 

The  laws  against  murder  and  theft  were  never  disputed, 
although  they  were  contrary  to  the  raiding  habits  of  the 
people.  They  were  accepted  as  God's  word,  and  I  doubt 
not  the  hearers'  consciences  told  them  they  were  true,  for 
within  the  tribe  violation  of  these  laws  was  punished  severely 
enough,  though  the  same  protection  was  not  extended  to 
the  weaker  tribes  beyond. 

But  of  all  truth  none  was  welcomed  and  listened  to  with 
greater  avidity  than  that  about  everlasting  life.  The  desire 
to  know  what  was  beyond  the  grave,  and  to  overcome  the 
terrors  of  death,  made  our  teaching  peculiarly  welcome. 
And  one  has  found  that,  perhaps  more  than  any  other  revela- 
tion we  had  to  give  them,  this  one  has  drawn  people  to  Christ. 

The  Person  of  Jesus,  too,  has  always  been  attractive. 
They  easily  recognize  the  greatness  of  the  redemption  His 
death  has  brought  them,  and  the  goodness  and  patience  and. 
power  of  His  life  on  earth  appeal  to  their  love  of  what  is 


264  BEER-DRINKING 

admirable  in  a  noble  man.  But,  like  all  human  beings,  they 
find  it  easy  to  yield  their  approval  to  all  His  goodness,  but 
not  so  easy  to  yield  their  lives  to  His  obedience. 

Two  great  social  evils  have  necessarily  received  a  good 
deal  of  attention.  The  one  is  polygamy,  and  the  other  drink. 
With  polygamy  we  make  no  compromise,  for  we  maintain 
that  its  presence  in  the  tribe  is  wholly  evil.  There  never 
can  be  home  life  as  long  as  polygamy  is  tolerated,  and  for 
the  purity  of  the  Church  of  the  future  it  is  necessary  that 
homes  be  created,  and  that  monogamy  be  plainly  declared 
to  be  the  Christian  order.  For  younger  people  I  do  not 
think  that  the  dissolution  of  polygamous  unions  involves 
any  great  hardship,  for  the  wives  return  to  their  parents 
and,  if  they  desire,  soon  marry  again  ;  but  for  old  people  who 
have  lived  for  long  years  as  man  and  wife  it  may  not  be  easy. 
Yet  it  is  not  expedient  that  we  make  exceptions  in  their 
cases.  We  must  acknowledge  that  some  of  them  may  be 
within  the  kingdom  of  God,  although  we  cannot  receive 
them  into  the  fellowship  of  the  Church.  Various  circum- 
stances may  make  monogamy  almost  impossible  for  them  ; 
but,  after  all,  "  strait  is  the  gate,"  and  the  way  to  life  leads 
by  the  Cross.  We  shall  confer  no  benefit  on  the  individual 
or  on  the  race  if  we  make  the  gate  wider  and  take  away  the 
cross  which  some  must  bear. 

Towards  the  beer  habit  the  native  Church  has  taken  up  a 
very  clearly  defined  attitude.  We  are  not  cursed  with  Euro- 
pean spirits.  In  our  colony  it  is  a  criminal  offence  to  sell 
or  give  to  a  native  distilled  liquor  ;  but,  without  our  help, 
they  have  found  for  themselves  an  intoxicating  drink  which 
they  brew  from  a  millet  grain.  I  have  already  written  about 
the  great  social  evils  that  arise  from  village  drunkenness, 
and  need  not  say  more.  The  native  Church  has  imposed 
upon  itself  a  self-denying  ordinance,  and  agreed  that  all  who 
enter  the  catechumenate  or  the  Church  must  be  total 
abstainers  from  beer. 


DIFFICULTIES  265 

These  two  outstanding  social  evils  are  the  most  public 
barriers  to  obedience  to  Christ.  Other  superstitions  and 
cruel  habits  are  also  denounced  and  plainly  declared  to  be 
contrary  to  the  new  way.  And  it  is  in  leading  men  out  of 
conduct  which  is  sanctioned  by  their  own  customs  that  the 
chief  difficulty  for  the  evangelist  appears. 

One  day  one  of  my  teachers  arrived  in  a  village  near  his 
own  home  after  a  long  tramp  from  a  sacramental  season  at 
Loudon.  He  had  an  ulcer  on  his  foot,  and  was  lame.  When 
he  sat  down  at  the  kraal-gate  an  old  man  greeted  him  and 
said  : 

"  You  are  very  lame.    Wliere  have  you  been  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  at  Loudon,"  he  answered. 

"  That  is  a  long  way  from  here.  \Miat  made  you  take 
such  a  journey  ?  " 

"  I  was  hungry,  and  went  to  be  fed.  I  had  such  a  feast 
of  fat  things." 

"  What  kind  of  feast  was  this  ?  "  asked  the  old  man 
eagerly.  And  the  teacher  told  him  very  simply  about  the 
message  of  Christ.    Wlien  he  had  finished  the  old  man  said  : 

"  Now,  that  is  good  news.  What  must  I  do  to  be  a 
Christian  ?  " 

Then  the  teacher  spoke  to  him  about  obedience  to  Christ 
and  following  Him  ;  and  when  he  had  opened  it  up  some- 
what fully  the  questioner  said  : 

"  Now,  if  God  would  only  say  to  us  old  people,  '  Retain 
your  polygamy  and  continue  your  drunken  habits,'  there's 
not  a  man  of  us  in  the  village  who  would  not  rise  and  follow 
Him." 

That  was  plainly  and  truthfully  spoken,  for  to  all  the 
Gospel  truths  these  Africans  offer  full  assent,  but  to  obey  is 
another  matter.  It  is  here  that  one  must  recognize  the 
supernatural  element  in  all  our  work,  for  thousands  of  the 
people,  without  offer  of  reward,  seem  to  have  yielded  them- 
selves  to   God,  and  that  in   spite  of  the   feebleness   and 


266  CATECHUMENS 

ignorance  of  the  native  agents  who  have  been  their 
preachers. 

Our  work,  however,  does  not  end  at  an  open  profession 
of  faith.  Its  greatest  responsibihties  only  commence  there. 
Let  no  one  say  that  the  missionary  exists  to  "  make  con- 
verts "  and  increase  statistical  records.  For  this  is  simply 
not  true.  It  might  be  easy  to  enrol  hundreds  of  nominal 
Christians  whose  lives  have  not  been  tested,  and  whose  in- 
telligence has  not  been  trained.  But  of  what  value  for  the 
present  or  the  future  would  be  such  a  Church  of  baptized 
heathen  ?  One  could  not  find  in  them  any  redemptive  power 
for  the  nation,  but  could  rather  foresee  a  menace  to  the 
ethics  and  intelligence  of  the  future. 

The  chief  anxiety  and  labour  of  the  missionary  is  not  up 
to  the  point  when  men  and  women  decide  to  follow  Christ, 
but  from  that  point  onwards  when  he  seeks  to  form  in  them 
"  the  mind  of  Christ."  He  must  be  jealous  for  the  ethical 
standard  of  those  who  profess  to  be  His  disciples,  for  they 
represent  Him  to  the  world  as  the  "  body  of  Christ." 

Hence  the  road  which  a  convert  must  travel  before  he  is 
received  into  the  full  membership  is  somewhat  long.  We 
enter  him  in  the  inquirers'  class,  where  for  a  year  he  studies 
the  Gospel  and  the  commandments.  Then  he  is  tested  by 
personal  examination,  and  his  conduct  is  judged  by  the 
Christians  of  his  community  before  he  is  admitted  to  the 
catechumens'  class.  Here  he  remains  for  eighteen  months 
at  least,  learning  a  doctrinal  and  ethical  catechism  and  going 
through  a  course  of  lessons  in  the  Bible  until  he  is  ready  for 
examination  for  Church  membership.  Then  he  has  a  per- 
sonal interview  with  an  elder  of  the  church  and  the  European 
missionary,  and  if  they  find  him  intelligent  and  judge  him 
to  have  yielded  himself  to  God,  and  if  the  native  Church 
approve  of  his  village  conduct  during  his  probation,  he  is 
received  into  the  full  membership  of  the  Church  by  baptism. 

Now,  it  is  no  easy  matter  to  teach  and  control  and  dis- 


NATIVE  ELDERS  267 

cipline  those  who  are  members  of  the  Church.  They  are 
scattered  over  a  great  area,  and  there  are  only  two  European 
stations.  At  the  end  of  1912  there  were  more  than  3500  men 
and  women  in  full  communion,  besides  4000  catechumens, 
and  more  than  3000  baptized  children  of  Christian  parents. 
The  pastoral  supervision  of  these  by  the  missionary  is  an 
impossibility,  but  we  have  happily  a  great  band  of  over  a 
hundred  native  elders  who  most  carefully  fulfil  their  pastoral 
responsibilities,  knowing  intimately  the  conduct  of  the 
Christians  in  their  districts,  guiding  them  in  difficulties,  and 
jealously  guarding  the  purity  of  their  public  life.  Discipline 
of  unworthy  members  is  particularly  applied,  and  the  high 
standard  of  ethics  which  should  differentiate  the  Church  is 
carefully  maintained.  This,  alas  !  is  done  far  too  frequently 
by  the  last  resort  of  suspending  the  unworthy  or  removing 
their  names  from  the  Church  books. 

The  elders  and  deacons  who  develop  the  liberality  of  the 
Christians  and  look  after  the  poor  and  needy  are  divided 
into  groups  of  a  dozen  or  more.  Over  these  groups  evan- 
gelists preside,  acting  as  assistant  pastors  and  preparing  the 
way  for  the  day  which  we  hope  is  drawing  near,  when  each 
group  will  be  formed  into  a  separate  parish  with  a  native 
ordained  minister  in  charge. 

Now,  I  shall  at  once  admit  that  the  glory  of  mission  work 
is  not  to  be  found  in  the  perfection  of  the  Church  organiza- 
tion, but  in  the  transformed  lives  of  its  members,  and  the 
test  of  the  means  used  to  nurture  the  Church  must  be  the 
growing  likeness  of  the  Christians  to  their  confessed  Lord 
and  Master.  If  one  were  to  judge  the  native  Christians  by 
European  standards,  comparing  their  conduct  with  that  of 
men  and  women  who  have  inherited  centuries  of  Christian 
tradition,  I  fear  one's  impression  would  sometimes  be 
gloomy  enough.  But  when  we  place  their  lives  in  contrast 
with  the  surrounding  heathen  from  whom  they  have  been 
called,  they  shine  like  stars  in  a  dark  firmament. 


268      CHRISTIANS  AND  HEATHENS 

I  shall  not  attempt  to  measure  the  goodness  or  the  power 
that  is  in  the  Church,  but  let  me  indicate  at  least  some  of 
its  effects  that  I  myself  have  seen.  I  have  spent  one  night 
in  a  drunken  village,  and  have  heard  the  adults  shout  their 
filthy  songs  through  the  long  night,  and  have  seen  the  little 
children  being  taught  by  their  mothers  to  dance  obscenely. 
And  the  next  night  I  have  camped  before  the  door  of  a 
Christian's  house  in  a  Christian  village,  and  when  bed-time 
came  and  all  was  silent  in  the  village  as  I  was  dropping 
asleep  I  heard  the  father  conduct  worship  with  his  family, 
catechizing  them  and  praying  with  them.  It  was  a  sweeter 
sound  to  sleep  to  than  the  noise  of  the  previous  night. 

I  have  seen  the  beggarly  shelter  in  which  some  poor  old 
widows  were  housed  in  the  rainy  season,  open  to  rain  and 
cold,  comfortless  and  filthy.  They  had  no  power  to  erect  a 
decent  hut,  and  their  heathen  friends  had  no  use  for  them. 
And  I  have  seen  the  Christian  boys  spending  days,  while 
they  were  still  busy  with  their  own  houses,  building  a  goodly 
dwelling  for  some  poor  widow. 

I  have  seen  the  body  of  a  little  baby  lying  in  a  stream, 
thrown  away  by  its  own  mother  because  its  upper  teeth 
had  appeared  before  its  lower,  and  I  have  seen  the  tender 
care  of  a  Christian  mother  for  her  weakly  twins  and 
deformed  children,  whom  she  had  accepted  as  a  gift  from 
God  worthy  all  her  maternal  love. 

I  have  seen  the  sickly  children  left  to  starve  by  drunken 
parents  who  preferred  beer  to  nursing,  and  others  dying  of 
hideous  burns,  who  had  rolled  into  the  fire  while  the  parents 
slumbered  under  the  influence  of  drink.  And  I  have  seen, 
too,  the  long,  tender  watchfulness  of  a  Christian  father  and 
mother  for  their  little  ones  who  lay  sick  and  helpless. 

I  have  seen  the  terror  of  approaching  death  in  the 
heathen's  eyes,  and  heard  his  wild  charges  of  witchcraft 
against  those  whom  he  hated,  and  on  whom  he  would  re- 
venge himself  on  his  death-bed.    And  I  have  seen,  too,  the 


CHRISTIANS  AND  HEATHENS      269 

triumphant  passing  of  the  Christian,  who  with  prayer  and 
song  and  exhortation  to  hoHness  said  a  loving  farewell  to 
his  friends  before  going  to  meet  the  great  Friend  who  had 
changed  him. 

I  know  men  and  women  whose  lives  were  drunken,  whose 
conversation  was  filthy,  and  whose  passions  were  de- 
moniacal, changed  to  sober-living,  clean-talking,  kindly  and 
compassionate  people.  I  have  seen  dull  eyes  that  looked 
about  with  a  listless  lack  of  intelligence  lighting  uji  with  a 
new  knowledge  that  sweetened  the  face  and  smoothed  out 
its  coarse  lines  when  the  knowledge  of  Christ  had  dawned 
upon  them.  And  I  have  been  in  villages  whose  churlish 
inhospitality  and  stupid  fear  made  one's  visit  a  painful 
memory,  and  again  returned  to  find  their  atmosphere 
changed  to  frank  and  cheerful  hospitality  and  an  easy 
friendliness  when  the  Gospel  had  been  proclaimed  and 
taught  there.  And  I  know  men  whose  hands  were  red  with 
the  blood  of  the  slain,  and  whose  kraals  were  stocked  with 
what  they  had  robbed,  becoming  peaceable  citizens  of  the 
kingdom  and  fervid  evangelists  of  the  message  of  peace. 

These  things  which  I  know  and  see  convince  me,  at  least, 
that  there  is  no  such  transforming  power  in  the  world  as  the 
revelation  of  the  love  of  God  in  Christ. 


CHAPTER   XXVI 
A  DAY  ON  THE  STATION 

IT  is  Wednesday  morning  and  the  dawn  has  broken  when 
the  house-boy  appears  at  my  bedside  with  a  cup  of  tea 
and  bread.  When  I  have  sipped  the  tea  the  struggle 
with  sleep  is  finally  over,  and  after  a  cold  bath  the  morning 
is  sparkling  and  all  the  heaviness  of  the  night  is  past.  As 
the  sun  rises  the  watchman  has  begun  to  ring  the  church 
bell,  and  I  go  down  to  morning  service.  Birds  are  singing 
on  the  trees,  the  air  is  crisp  and  still,  and  the  grass  is  sweet 
with  heavy  dew.  The  red  sun  is  sending  cool  beams  through 
the  bank  of  leafy  wood,  and  there  is  no  bite  in  them  yet,  so 
I  walk  along  bareheaded,  drinking  in  the  joy  of  the  morning. 

In  church  twenty  or  forty  people  have  already  gathered. 
They  are  nearly  all  employees,  with  the  exception  of  the 
little  boarders  and  some  of  the  patients  from  hospital  and 
the  few  people  who  live  on  the  station.  Our  service  is  short  : 
a  hymn  is  sung,  a  passage  from  Scripture  read  and  explained, 
and  then  prayer,  ending  with  the  Lord's  Prayer  and  bene- 
diction. As  soon  as  the  little  service  is  over  the  workers 
gather  at  the  vestry  door  and  the  roll  is  called,  and  all  are 
dispersed  to  their  various  bits  of  work. 

Then  I  busy  myself  dispatching  messengers.  Some  boys 
are  going  a  week's  journey  to  the  Institution  to  bring  back 
loads  of  books  and  school  material  for  the  store  ;  others  are 
sent  to  out-schools  with  notes  to  teachers,  or  supplies  for 
their  schools.  A  swarm  of  others  are  restlessly  clamouring 
for  work.    Are  there  no  logs  to  be  drawn  to  the  saw-pit  ? 

270 


MORNING  SCHOOL  271 

Is  no  brick-making  to  be  started  ?  Are  no  carriers  wanted 
for  a  journey  ?  And  if  there  is  no  opportunity  for  workers 
I  am  besieged  with  protests.  "  We  are  naked.  Where  shall 
we  get  cloth  ?  "  "  Our  taxes  are  not  paid.  How  shall  we 
get  money  to  pay  them  ?  "  But  as  my  work  is  not  to  clothe 
the  tribe  and  pay  their  taxes,  but  to  conserve  very  care- 
fully the  little  grants  the  mission  gives  me,  I  turn  a  deaf 
ear  and  leave  them  expostulating. 

When  all  these  little  jobs  are  completed  I  start  off  to 
superintend  the  workers.  The  carpenter's  shop  must  be 
visited.  There  are  three  or  four  lads  sawing  and  hammering 
and  planing.  They  have  a  great  faculty  for  doing  things  in 
a  wrong  way  and  spoiling  good  wood,  and  they  need  the 
most  constant  supervision.  One  is  making  windows  for 
native  houses.  Two  others  are  busy  with  little  tables  for 
the  school,  and  another  is  sawing  up  wood  for  doors.  A  few 
minutes  are  sufficient  to  see  that  measurements  are  correct 
and  all  the  processes  understood,  and  then  I  go  off  to  see 
the  other  labourers. 

Perhaps  some  little  brick  house  is  being  erected.  Then 
one  must  see  to  it  that  the  plumbing  is  correct,  that  the 
guiding  strings  are  being  followed,  that  the  supplies  of  water, 
building  mud,  etc.,  are  coming  in  due  time,  and  that  the 
bricklayers  are  not  kept  idle  for  lack  of  them. 

At  seven  o'clock  there  has  been  a  prolonged  tolling  of  the 
bell,  and  files  of  children  have  been  entering  the  station. 
When  the  bell  stops  they  are  drawn  up  in  lines  and  drilled 
for  a  few  moments  by  their  head  teacher,  and  then  all  march 
into  the  school-house,  and  soon  the  sound  of  the  morning 
hymn  is  heard.  There  was  a  time  when  I  would  have  re- 
quired to  neglect  all  other  work  and  conduct  the  school 
myself,  but  the  powers  of  the  teachers  have  grown  since 
then,  and  all  I  do  is  to  pass  round  the  classes  and  see  that 
all  is  going  well. 

And  now  I  rejoice  in  a  European  colleague  whose  delight 


272  OUR  CLERK 

and  speciality  is  the  school  work,  and  I  may  throw  on  him 
my  responsibilities  for  education. 

By  the  time  this  short  visit  is  over  breakfast  is  waiting 
at  home,  and  I  return  to  my  family  with  a  furious  appetite. 
There  is  porridge  on  the  table  made  of  some  ground  cereal 
of  the  land,  with  rich  cream  from  the  cattle  in  the  kraal, 
and  bread  made  of  the  flour  of  wheat  grown  in  this  land. 
There  are  chicken  or  eggs  that  have  been  bought  from  the 
villagers,  and  coffee  grown  at  the  Institution.  The  appe- 
tizing table  provides  little  that  has  not  been  grown  or 
bought  in  this  land  of  plenty. 

When  the  meal  is  over  and  various  household  duties 
attended  to  I  return  to  my  office,  which  is  the  vestry  of  the 
church.  A  native  clerk  is  there  busy  with  a  typcAvriter,  or 
turning  on  the  Roneo  hundreds  of  copies  of  some  circular 
to  the  teachers.  He  is  a  shy,  pock-marked  lad,  with  a  fine 
capacity  for  work,  and  a  temper  that  never  gets  ruffled.  I 
have  seen  a  score  of  men  about  him,  each  clamouring  to  be 
attended  to,  handing  in  their  school  returns,  waiting  for 
their  pay,  or  trying  to  force  their  little  notes  on  his  atten- 
tion, and  over  all  the  din  not  an  impatient  word  is  heard 
from  him  as  he  attends  to  each  in  succession  with  that 
nervous  smile  on  his  face  which  cannot  come  off.  I  have 
never  known  him  do  a  dishonest  thing  or  say  an  angry  word. 
To  me  he  is  invaluable. 

Now,  the  office  is  a  public  place  to  which  any  one  may 
resort,  and  there  one  may  not  count  on  any  prolonged 
privacy.  Perhaps  I  am  busy  at  the  books  of  the  station 
when  a  knock  comes  to  the  door.  "  Come  in,"  I  shout,  and 
there  is  a  wild  pushing  at  the  door.  "  Turn  the  handle," 
I  shout  again,  and  there  is  a  sound  of  some  one  roughly 
grasping  the  handle  and  turniiig  it  back  and  forward.  No 
door  handle  in  this  land  can  stand  for  long  the  furious 
assaults  that  are  made  upon  it.  We  used  to  blame  the 
miserable  quality  of  the  material  supplied  us  for  every  lock 


A  VISITOR  273 

going  wrong,  but  now  I  know  that  no  ironmongery  yet  made 
for  a  house  door  can  stand  the  aimless  puUings  and  twistings 
that  the  native  can  give  it.  At  last,  as  the  secret  of  open- 
ing a  European  door  remains  undiscovered,  I  rise  and  open 
to  the  visitor.  He  is  one  of  a  little  batch  who  have  come 
from  some  distant  school  to  be  examined  for  entrance  to  the 
Church.  Now  Wednesday  is  not  one  of  the  stated  days  for 
such  interviews,  but  I  cannot  turn  them  back  fifty  or  a 
hundred  miles  and  tell  them  to  come  on  the  appointed  days. 
What  are  they  to  eat  till  Friday  or  Tuesday  comes  round  ? 
So  I  take  them  in  one  by  one,  and  after  scanning  the  slip 
they  bear  from  their  elder,  and  looking  up  the  roll-book  to 
see  whether  their  attendance  at  class  has  been  regular,  I  sit 
down  to  examine. 

The  applicant  is  very  nervous.  I  can  see  the  wild  beat- 
ing of  his  heart,  and  beads  of  perspiration  stand  out  on  his 
forehead,  and  if  he  has  a  slight  stammer  it  is  dreadfully 
accentuated.  So  I  must  be  patient,  and  begin  with  the 
simplest  questions  which  he  is  sure  to  answer.  Then  gradu- 
ally, as  he  gets  confidence,  I  lead  on  to  more  difficult  ones. 
But  when  I  would  find  out  his  real  thoughts  and  his  inner 
life,  he  answers  by  rote,  and  the  secrets  are  not  disclosed. 
Again  and  again  by  paths  he  has  not  expected  me  to  tread 
I  try  to  approach.  But  this  is  the  hardest  part  of  all,  and 
in  the  end  I  shall  probably  have  to  make  my  judgment  on 
his  formal  knowledge  and  on  what  the  native  elder  knows 
of  him.  Some  will  come  who  meet  me  with  a  frank,  bright 
look,  and  talk  openly  as  those  who  have  handled  and  tasted 
the  eternal  things  ;  others  will  come  whose  shyness  closes 
every  window  of  their  inner  man  ;  and  still  others  who  sit 
stupid  and  unable  to  answer,  their  unfitness  proclaimed  by 
their  first  sentences.  But  it  is  a  hard  thing  to  reject  any. 
The  disappointed  may  sit  outside  weeping,  or  wait  all  day 
to  see  whether  you  will  not  give  them  another  chance.  And, 
indeed,  if  you  are  just,  you  will  try  some  of  them  again,  for 
s 


274  MARRIAGE-DAY 

in  their  eagerness  they  have  pressed  for  an  immediate  inter- 
view, though  they  were  dead  tired  with  their  long  journey, 
and  hungry  for  lack  of  a  meal  all  day.  The  man  who  has 
slept  and  eaten  may  be  a  much  more  intelligent  being  than 
he  was  when  he  came  to  you  tired  and  hungry. 

Before  these  interviews  are  over  there  is  a  growing  din 
outside  the  building,  the  merry  laughter  and  loud  talking  of 
a  crowd  of  young  people.  It  is  marriage-day,  and  ten  o'clock 
is  the  hour  for  the  ceremony,  and  the  jolly  crowd  outside 
has  come  to  see  their  friends  through  the  ordeal. 

When  the  hour  arrives  the  old  beadle,  who  has  been 
flitting  out  and  in  and  taking  long,  careful  looks  at  the 
watch  on  the  vestry  table,  now  goes  out  and  rings  the 
church  bell,  and  the  clerk  passes  into  the  church  to  arrange 
the  couples  and  lay  out  the  marriage  register  and  pens  and 
ink.  As  soon  as  all  is  quiet  and  orderly  I  go  into  the  church. 
It  is  a  weekly  occasion,  this  marriage  service,  and  there  are 
four  or  five  couples  sitting  before  the  pulpit  waiting  to  be 
made  man  and  wife.  The  bridegroom  is  dressed  in  his  best 
clothes,  possibly  a  ludicrous  combination  of  European  dress 
and  native  costume  ;  the  bride  is  arrayed  in  new  bright 
clothes,  and  hangs  down  her  head,  overcome  with  shyness. 
There  are  several  hundreds  in  the  church,  all  friends  of  the 
parties  to  be  married,  who  have  travelled  with  them  from 
their  distant  villages.  The  men,  who  sit  on  one  side  of  the 
church  on  mats,  have  on  their  ordinary  clothes  ;  but  the 
girls,  on  the  other  side,  are  gay  with  necklaces  of  lions'  and 
leopards'  claws,  with  shining  brass  collars,  and  long  strings  of 
little  beads  hanging  from  their  necks  or  bound  tightly  round 
their  heads,  and  perhaps  a  bright  crimson  flower  stuck  in 
their  hair. 

The  service  goes  on,  and  when  the  bridegroom  stands  up 
with  his  bride  to  make  his  vows  he  answers  in  a  strong,  bold 
voice  ;  but  the  bride  is  shy,  very  shy  if  she  has  been  well 
educated,  and  she  resists  when  her  swain  would  take  her 


MARRIAGE-DAY  275 

hand.  She  stands  with  her  head  bowed  low  and  averted, 
her  left  hand  thrown  over  her  right  shoulder,  and  her  right 
hand  unwillingly  extended  to  her  husband,  who  grasps  it 
firmly  lest  she  take  it  away.  There  constantly  appears  some 
bride  whose  shyness  makes  her  "  dour."  She  will  not 
answer  the  questions,  not  even  nod  her  head.  And  then 
there  is  nothing  for  it  but  to  drop  the  couple  and  go  on  to 
another.  I  may  have  suspicions  that  the  marriage  is  not  to 
her  liking  and  her  parents  have  forced  her  into  it.  But 
when  she  sees  that  I  seriously  mean  to  leave  her  alone  unless 
she  utters  a  free  assent,  she  rises  again  and  this  time  answers 
clearly.  Once  or  twice  I  refused  to  marry,  though  no  objec- 
tions were  made  to  the  banns  or  at  the  service,  but  because 
the  bride  refused  to  speak.  And  then  I  discovered  after- 
wards that  the  poor  girl  had  taken  this  silent  method  of 
protesting  against  a  marriage  that  was  being  forced  on  her. 

When  all  is  over  and  the  register  signed,  the  people  file 
out  of  church,  and  each  party  goes  its  separate  way  accom- 
panied by  its  bevy  of  gaily  dressed  girls  who  clap  their  hands 
and  sing  choruses  as  they  follow  the  blushing  bride.  And 
all  the  time  they  are  passing  through  the  station  elderly 
matrons  are  good-humouredly  shouting  after  her  directions 
for  her  married  life,  impressing  on  her  that  if  she  would 
retain  the  love  of  her  husband  she  must  "  feed  the  beast," 
and  sweep  the  house,  and  do  other  praiseworthy  domestic 
duties. 

When  the  marriage  parties  have  started  homewards  I 
return  to  the  office  and  find  there  another  group  of  young 
people  awaiting  me.  They  carry  a  note  from  their  elder  to 
say  that  this  party  desires  marriage,  the  dowry  has  been 
fully  paid  by  the  intending  husband,  and  the  parents  have 
consented  to  the  wedding.  So,  after  hearing  the  witnesses 
confirm  this  and  finding  out  the  church-standing  of  the 
couple  and  seeing  that  they  are  both  old  enough  (for  we  have 
had  a  long,  stiff  battle  against  too  early  marriages),  I  write 


276         A  PERTINACIOUS  VISITOR 

out  the  banns  and  send  them  home  rejoicing  to  return  again 
when  these  have  been  duly  proclaimed. 

Again  I  return  to  my  table  and  books  and  try  to  bury 
myself  in  them,  but  am  soon  interrupted  by  the  sound  of 
coughing  outside  and  clubs  being  dropped  on  the  ground. 
This  is  the  true  African  door-bell,  so  I  ask  the  clerk  to  see 
who  are  there  and  what  they  want.  He  opens  the  door  and 
discovers  one  of  the  neighbouring  chiefs  ;  we  invite  him 
to  enter,  and  he  stalks  in  accompanied  by  half  a  dozen  of 
his  men  who  sit  about  the  door.  We  exchange  greetings, 
and  I  lay  aside  my  pen  and  try  to  appear  unoccupied.  The 
chief  looks  it  to  perfection.  He  is  a  bloated-looking  figure, 
tall  and  dignified  enough,  but  every  line  on  his  face  proclaims 
aloud  his  indolent  and  drunken  life.  He  takes  snuff  from 
one  of  his  men,  and  coughs  to  show  its  strength  and  his 
appreciation  of  it.  Talk  is  not  lively  ;  we  make  remarks  on 
the  weather,  on  the  state  of  the  gardens,  on  the  latest  cattle 
disease.  I  try  to  ascertain  whether  he  has  come  on  any 
particular  business.  "  No,  he  was  passing  near  the  station, 
and  thought  he  would  come  to  see  me."  My  work  is  lying 
about  me  in  heaps,  time  is  so  short,  and  there  is  so  much 
to  do.  But  for  the  chief  it  is  infinitely  long,  and  there  is 
nothing  to  do.  So  we  sit  there,  I  restless,  he  entirely  at  his 
ease.  Soon  all  conversation  stops,  and  we  can  find  nothing 
to  say.  If  I  agree  to  it  he  will  sit  there  a  couple  of  hours 
and  never  weary.  But  I  know  one  thing  that  will  make 
him  find  urgent  business  at  home,  so  I  begin  to  speak  to 
him  about  religion.  He  grows  restless.  Then  I  press  one 
or  two  personal  points,  and  he  answers  with  polite  agree- 
ment ;  but  it  has  dawned  on  him  that  possibly  the  office  is 
not  so  cool  as  he  thought  it  was,  and  soon  he  rises,  giving 
me  a  courteous  good-bye,  and  goes  to  seek  the  nearest  beer- 
pot. 

By  this  time  noon  has  arrived,  and  the  bell  is  rung  and 
answered  by  joyous  shouts  from  the  workers  let  loose,  and 


AFTERNOON  WORK  277 

I  leave  the  office  glad  for  the  noon  break  of  two  hours.  By 
this  hour  one's  physical  powers  are  very  exhausted,  and  after 
a  light  lunch  one  wants  nothing  more  than  to  lie  on  a  couch, 
reading,  and  perhaps  drop  off  to  sleep  for  ten  minutes. 

Again  the  bell  rings,  and  although  the  sun  is  still  blazing 
with  a  fierce  heat  the  workers  return  to  their  various  jobs, 
but  not  so  smartly  as  they  left  them.  Another  round  of 
visits  is  necessary  to  ensure  that  work  begins  promptly,  and 
to  correct  and  direct  what  remains  to  be  done  in  the  after- 
noon. Then  I  go  back  to  the  office,  and  get  a  short,  un- 
interrupted spell  of  work,  when  few  visitors  call.  But  mean- 
while the  senior  English  school  is  in  full  progress  and  must 
be  visited,  and  possibly  some  lesson  taught.  Only  a  few 
pupils  are  present,  perhaps  thirty  or  forty,  and  nearly  all 
are  teachers  from  the  surrounding  schools  who,  having 
finished  their  morning  work,  have  now  come  in  for  further 
instruction. 

At  four  o'clock,  when  the  sun  is  getting  low,  the  church 
bell  is  ringing  again,  this  time  for  the  mid-week  prayer- 
meeting.  Now  all  work  stops.  The  labourers  gather  with 
us,  and  numbers  of  Christian  villagers  also  come  until  per- 
haps a  hundred  are  present.  Possibly  one  of  the  elders  may 
relieve  me  of  the  little  address  and  of  the  conduct  of  the 
meeting  ;  but  the  preaching  is  only  a  short  item  in  the 
service.  The  main  thing  is  prayer,  so  once  or  twice  the 
meeting  is  thrown  open  for  prayer,  and  numbers  lead  shortly. 
Sometimes  the  women  take  part,  and  pray  in  a  low  voice 
which  it  is  hard  to  hear.  The  old  station  capitao  (foreman) 
is  sure  to  be  heard,  and  we  all  know  what  he  will  say.  He 
will  begin  with  a  resounding  address,  "  Jehovah,  God  of 
Abraham,  God  of  Isaac,  God  of  Jacob,"  and  he  will  pray 
for  the  Church  and  for  backsliders  and  for  the  heathen  with- 
out, and  then  he  will  pray  for  the  Europeans  and  their 
families  with  great  particularity.  And  all  the  time  his  voice, 
which  began  in  the  strong,  slow  bass  of  the  Ngoni,  has  been 


278         THE  MID-WEEK  MEETING 

sinking  lower  and  lower  until  we  can  scarcely  hear  and  are 
not  sure  he  has  finished.  Still,  it  is  good  to  hear  the  old 
man  pray.  It  is  many  years  now  since  he  shaved  off  his 
warrior's  head-ring  and  turned  aside  from  the  great  beer-pot, 
and  there  are  not  many  of  his  age  and  standing  among  the 
Ngoni  who  have  obeyed  and  followed  the  Evangel.  When 
the  old  beadle  leads  us,  his  slightly  tremulous  voice  calls  up 
the  luscious  images  of  Samuel  Rutherford's  letters.  Every 
petition  is  expressed  in  metaphor,  and  every  day  these  are 
fresh  and  wonderful  :  "  Take  us,  Lord  Jesus,  to  Thy  great 
breast,  as  a  mother  would  her  little  child."  "  Put  Thy  hoe 
into  the  garden  so  full  of  weeds  and  undergrowth,  and  plant 
with  the  best  of  maize.  Water  Thy  garden  with  gentle 
showers  until  it  is  heavy  with  food."  And  so  on  he  goes, 
and  as  he  prays  we  know  that  a  good  man  and  a  tender 
husband  and  a  fervent  evangelist  is  leading  us. 

When  the  meeting  closes  the  sun  is  already  dipping  far 
down  to  the  horizon  and  the  day's  work  is  over,  and  all  that 
remains  for  us  is  a  little  gentle  exercise  before  the  dark  falls 
and  we  retire  to  the  quiet  and  privacy  of  our  homes. 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

A  WONDERFUL  CONVENTION 

I  HAVE  already  said  that  it  has  been  our  habit  to  hold  an 
annual  convention  at  Loudon,  to  deepen  the  spiritual 
life  of  the  Church  and  to  teach  some  of  the  vital  truths 
of  Christianity.  To  accommodate  the  crowds  who  came 
to  this  gathering  we  used  to  erect  sheds  of  fresh  branches. 
But  the  annual  destruction  of  wood  about  us  became  so 
serious  that  we  had  at  last  to  erect  five  great  hostels,  built 
in  quadrangular  fashion,  of  poles,  plastered  with  mud  and 
thatched  with  grass.  These  huge  caravanserai  are  capable 
of  holding  between  two  and  three  thousand  guests  and  are 
constantly  occupied.  Visitors  who  come  to  the  weekly 
wedding  ceremonies,  candidates  for  entrance  to  the  classes, 
the  teachers  who  spend  a  month  with  us  once  a  year,  and  the 
thousands  of  people  who  attend  the  bi-monthly  sacramental 
gatherings,  all  use  these  shelters,  and  find  them  pleasant  and 
comfortable,  though  no  luxuries,  not  even  mats  to  sleep  on, 
are  provided. 

Year  by  year  the  conventions  have  grown  in  power. 
One  has  clearly  seen  the  intelligence  of  the  people  increase 
so  that  deeper  truths  which  some  time  ago  would  have  been 
meaningless  to  them  can  now  be  taught  to  intensely  recep- 
tive congregations.  Usually  some  of  my  fellow-missionaries 
come  to  assist  me  with  the  long  strain  of  the  daily  services, 
and  their  fresh  ways  of  presenting  familiar  truths  have 
reached  home  to  the  people. 

When  we  heard  in  1910  that  a  visit  was  to  be  paid  to  the 

279 


280      A  WONDERFUL  CONVENTION 

missions  in  Central  Africa  by  Mr.  Inwood,  a  deputy  from  the 
Keswick  Convention,  we  decided  to  make  our  annual 
gathering  coincide  with  his  visit,  and  to  use  to  the  full  this 
first  visit  of  a  preacher  from  Europe.  For  months  before 
he  came  we  did  our  best  to  rouse  the  expectations  of  the 
people,  and  spoke  much  on  the  great  good  that  might  come 
to  them  were  they  athirst  for  truth,  and  obedient.  As  the 
month  of  the  convention  drew  nearer  daily  prayer-meetings 
were  started,  until  there  were  about  a  hundred  of  them 
being  held,  when  the  Christians  confessed  their  shortcomings 
and  prayed  for  the  Power  of  God  to  rest  on  the  convention 
and  its  missioner. 

As  the  novelty  of  the  visit,  as  well  as  the  expectation 
aroused,  would  be  sure  to  attract  unmanageable  thousands, 
we  arranged  that  no  one  would  be  allowed  to  come  to  the 
station  to  attend  the  meetings  without  a  ticket  of  admission, 
and  we  distributed  between  two  and  three  thousand  of 
these  tickets  among  the  elders,  that  they  might  give  them 
to  selected  delegations  of  Church  members  and  catechumens. 
In  this  way  one  hoped  to  have  a  choice  and  intelligent 
audience  who  would  make  the  most  of  their  opportunity,  and 
who  would  call  forth  the  best  that  the  missioner  had  to  give 
us. 

Just  before  the  convention  began  I  travelled  down  to 
Mvera  to  attend  a  united  conference  of  missionaries,  and 
there  met  Mr.  Inwood.  \Mien  this  gathering  broke  up  a 
large  company  of  us  travelled  north  together,  spending  a 
week  on  the  journey.  All  the  way  along  I  was  conscious  of 
the  atmosphere  of  prayer  that  surrounded  us,  and  at  noon 
felt  as  if  I  could  hear  the  cries  to  God  going  up  from  a 
hundred  prayer-meetings.  We  arrived  at  Loudon  on  a 
Saturday  and  rested  till  Tuesday,  when  the  visitors  began 
to  arrive.  Each  delegation  came  in  procession  to  our 
dwelling-house  singing,  and  there  awaited  our  greetings, 
and  welcomed  Mr.  Inwood.     The  ordinary  stranger  could 


A  WONDERFUL  CONVENTION      281 

not  help  feeling  the  thrill  of  these  singing  regiments.  It  was 
picturesque  indeed,  and  very  African.  The  women  were  in 
the  centre,  and  carried  on  their  heads  baskets  containing 
cooking-pots  and  foodstuffs  for  the  coming  week.  The  men 
were  ranged  on  either  side,  some  carrying  goatskins  filled 
with  meal,  and  all  with  their  long  sticks  and  spears  raised 
on  their  shoulders.  They  marched  up  the  broad  road  slowly, 
singing  their  recitative  choruses,  and  when  they  came  to  the 
white  sand  in  front  of  our  house,  they  stood  there  to  finish 
their  hymn,  while  we  waited  on  the  verandah.  The  stranger 
Europeans  who  were  with  us  felt  the  fascination  of  the 
arrivals,  but  none  more  than  I,  though  by  its  annual 
repetition  the  scene  had  become  familiar  to  me.  There  I 
saw  men  and  women  whose  histories  I  knew,  some  who  had 
been  drawn  out  of  a  "  fearful  pit,"  some  who  had  records  of 
bravery  and  of  dastardly  cruelty,  too,  in  the  old  days,  some 
who  had  come  to  Christ  with  grey  hairs  and  bowed  bodies, 
to  give  Him  only  the  evening  of  their  lives.  And  when 
the  companies  from  the  far  Marambo  came,  having  spent 
a  week  on  the  road,  my  heart  melted.  One  saw  again  the 
filthy  stockaded  villages,  the  timid,  ignorant,  and  naked 
paganism  of  the  days  when  we  had  gone  there  twelve  years 
before  to  declare  the  gospel  of  liberty  for  the  first  time. 
Here  they  are  now,  from  these  same  people,  clothed,  washed, 
alert  with  new  life,  marching  into  the  heart  of  the  land  of 
their  former  enemies,  none  making  them  afraid.  It  is  at 
such  moments  as  these  that  one  feels  again  there  is  no  life 
so  highly  privileged  as  that  of  a  foreign  missionary. 

On  Wednesday  morning  the  convention  opened  with  a 
prayer-meeting.  At  ten  o'clock  and  again  at  two  o'clock  Mr. 
Inwood  spoke.  That  was  the  daily  programme.  The 
addresses  were  given  in  English,  and  sentence  by  sentence  I 
interpreted  into  the  Tumbuka  language.  Friends  who  had 
heard  of  our  purpose,  wrote  to  me  greatly  doubting  the 
possibility  of   making   any  impression   on   our  people    by 


282      A  WONDERFUL  CONVENTION 

interpretation.  But  while  one  recognizes  that  this  method 
of  address  has  great  disadvantages,  the  history  of  rehgious 
movements  gives  many  an  instance  where  it  has  been 
supremely  effective.  One  great  advantage  attends  it.  You 
cannot  get  up  a  purely  physical  emotion  by  interpretation, 
the  constant  interruption  of  the  address  arrests  the  emotional 
spell  which  the  speaker  might  cast  upon  his  audience. 

Indeed,  as  the  meetings  went  on  my  doubting  heart  got 
very  depressed  at  times,  lest  the  great  lessons  were  not 
gripping  ;  and  some  lack  of  attention  especially  on  the  part 
of  the  women  went  to  confirm  my  doubts.  Mr.  Inwood 
spoke  on  the  ascending  scale  with  which  all  frequenters  of 
Keswick  and  such  conventions  are  familiar.  Beginning 
with  a  severe  probing  of  the  sins  which  creep  into  the 
Christian's  life,  he  led  on  to  the  redemption  of  Christ,  and  a 
bold  declaration  of  the  power  of  the  living  Christ  to  save 
from  a  present  power  of  sin.  He  appealed  for  entire  dedica- 
tion to  God,  and  expounded  the  great  mystery  of  the  in- 
dwelling of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  men. 

When  Friday  evening  came,  the  Europeans  gathered 
together  in  our  sitting-room  for  prayer.  Some  of  us  were 
oppressed  with  the  feeling  that  the  days  were  passing,  and 
the  grip  of  the  conference  had  not  tightened,  but  Mr. 
Inwood  himself  was  sure  that  God  was  fulfilling  His  purposes 
in  His  own  way,  though  we  did  not  recognize  it.  I  fear  our 
missioner  must  have  had  a  stiff  pull  if  he  had  only  what  we 
saw  to  encourage  him,  and  had  also  my  doubts  and  fears 
to  pull  against.  But  he  saw  more  truly  than  we  did.  For 
at  the  very  time  we  were  praying  together  in  the  sitting-room, 
our  sixty  elders  were  meeting  in  a  schoolroom.  They  had 
gathered  at  five  o'clock  to  confer  and  pray,  and  hour  after 
hour  passed  while  they  were  still  there.  Prayers  succeeded 
prayers,  and  confession  succeeded  confession.  Then  one 
who  had  not  been  at  peace  with  a  fellow  elder  came  to  him 
asking  forgiveness,   and  humbling  himself,   and  soon  the 


A  WONDERFUL  CONVENTION      283 

schoolroom  was  full  of  reconciliations,  and  men  wept  as 
they  confessed  to  one  another  their  faults  and  cried  to  God 
for  pardon. 

On  Saturday  morning  when  we  met  with  a  few  in  the 
vestry  for  prayer  before  going  into  the  church,  there  was 
great  freedom,  but  the  elders  were  still  waiting  for  the 
climax  of  all.  "  Lord,  we  are  so  hungry,  and  we  are  not 
satisfied,"  cried  one.  And  the  beadle  joined  in  with  his 
usual  wealth  of  metaphor.  "  Sharpen,  Lord,  the  arrows 
Thou  art  shooting,  until  the  whole  heart  is  wounded,  then 
come  Thyself  as  the  living  Medicine." 

^Mien  the  service  began  it  was  soon  evident  that  the 
congregation  was  joining  with  a  greater  intensity  than 
before.  The  sermon  was  scarcely  opened  when  a  young 
man  began  to  sob  hysterically.  He  was  at  once  removed, 
and  every  precaution  taken  that  we  might  go  soberly  on. 
Mr.  In  wood  was  speaking  on  the  Holy  Spirit.  At  the  close 
of  his  sermon,  which  with  interpretation  must  have  lasted 
one  hour,  all  was  very  quiet.  He  asked  for  a  time  of  silent 
prayer,  and  then  called  on  those  who  were  willing  to  receive 
the  fullness  of  the  Spirit  to  rise.  No  one  rose.  After  a  time 
two  or  three  stood,  but  evidently  with  a  struggle.  Then  an 
elder  began  to  pray,  confessing  before  all  the  sin  of  having 
cherished  a  spirit  of  revenge  for  an  evil  done  him.  Then 
another  began  to  pray,  and  another  and  another,  till  two  or 
three  were  praying  together  in  a  quiet  voice,  weeping  and 
confessing,  each  one  unconscious  of  the  other.  And  then 
suddenly  there  came  the  sound  of  "a  rushing  mighty  wind." 
It  was  the  thrilling  sound  of  two  thousand  five  hundred 
people  praying  audibly,  no  man  apparently  conscious  of  the 
other.  I  could  think  of  no  better  image  to  describe  the  noise 
than  the  rushing  of  wind  through  the  trees.  We  were 
listening  to  the  same  sound  as  filled  that  upper  room  at 
Pentecost.  Not  noisy  or  discordant,  it  filled  us  with  a  great 
awe.    Soon  some  began  to  cry  out  in  unrestrainable  agony, 


284      A  WONDERFUL  CONVENTION 

and  we  knew  that  unwholesome  physical  excitement  would 
presently  break  out  unless  the  meeting  were  controlled.  I 
started  a  hymn.  None  seemed  to  hear  aright  in  the  per- 
vading sound,  but  each  man  and  woman  sang,  and  sang 
what  was  uppermost  in  his  heart.  It  was  overwhelming  to 
look  down  from  the  pulpit  at  the  audience  singing  away, 
every  one  with  closed  eyes,  singing  what  his  heart  prompted. 
And  for  two  or  three  minutes  no  tune  could  be  discerned  but 
that  of  a  mighty  volume  of  tumbling  waters,  until  at  last 
the  minor  Scottish  Psalm  tune  "  Selma  "  prevailed,  and  the 
words  of  confession  to  which  it  is  set  in  our  hymn-book. 

When  the  hymn  closed  and  the  benediction  was  pro- 
nounced the  congregation  dispersed,  no  man  speaking  one 
word  to  his  neighbour.  And  had  one  gone  out  to  the  bush 
around  or  through  the  caravanserais  one  would  have  seen 
men  and  women  praying  on  their  knees,  or  sitting  with  open 
Bibles  before  them.  But  among  the  thousands  there  one 
would  have  heard  no  sound  of  human  talk. 

In  the  afternoon  we  divided  the  people  so  as  to  have 
them  more  under  control.  The  women  were  to  meet  in  the 
school  quadrangle  with  my  wife  and  the  other  ladies,  the 
men  were  to  gather  in  the  church.  A  little  before  worship 
should  begin  I  went  down  to  the  station  square,  in  the 
midst  of  which  the  church  stands,  to  see  that  the  congre- 
gations gathered  in  orderly  fashion.  Not  a  man  was  to  be 
seen  in  the  square,  not  a  sound  was  audible  anywhere. 
At  first  I  thought  the  hour  of  meeting  had  been  misunder- 
stood, and  the  people  were  still  in  their  sleeping-places. 
But  when  I  went  to  the  church  door  I  saw  the  church  full 
of  men  quietly  waiting,  and  on  the  other  side  of  the  square 
the  school  quadrangle  was  already  filled  with  women. 
Three  thousand  were  sitting  in  their  places,  and  over  all 
was  a  solemn  silence. 

Mr.  Inwood  took  the  men's  service  in  the  church.  He 
spoke  again  on  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  was  listened  to  with 


About  7300  people  gave  free  labour  to  erect  this  church.  The  walls  are  ot 
brick,  and  the  roof  is  thatched  with  grass.  The  open-air  pulpit  is  seen  near 
the  tower.      From  this  we  sometimes  address  6000  people. 


liNTERiOR  Loudon  Church 

There  are  no  seats.  The  people  sit  on  the  long  mats.  Part  of  the 
nave  is  shown  here.  The  transepts  are  screened  off  and  are  opened 
for  the  monthly  sacramental  gatherings. 


Loudon  Hospital 

It  has  a  male  and  a  female  ward.  There  are  also  a  waiting-room,  operating- 
room,  dispensary,  and  other  rooms.  It  was  partly  erected  by  free  labour,  and 
.about  4000  patients  attend  the  dispensary  every  year. 


A  WONDERFUL  CONVENTION      285 

great  eagerness.  When  he  closed,  again  we  had  open  prayer. 
At  first  it  began  with  quiet  confessions,  then  suddenly, 
without  a  moment's  notice,  the  overwhelming  outburst 
again  began.  The  whole  audience  was  praying  audibly. 
I  came  down  from  the  pulpit  and  passed  up  and  down  the 
passages  trying  to  quieten  one  or  two  who  were  on  their 
feet  crying  loudly,  "  Oh,  pray  for  me,  I  am  a  fearful  sinner," 
cried  one  young  man,  seizing  my  arm  as  I  passed.  And  in 
all  the  prayers  there  was  this  note  of  personal  conviction. 

Soon  the  scene  became  unbearable,  and  signs  of  severe 
physical  excitement  were  again  beginning  to  appear.  So 
I  stepped  on  to  the  platform,  and  asked  for  quiet.  In  a 
moment  the  building  was  hushed  and  I  closed  with  a  prayer 
of  dedication. 

Meanwhile,  at  the  women's  meeting,  prayer  had  gone  on 
unceasingly.  Sometimes  a  score  were  on  their  feet  at  once 
praying  together  with  no  apparent  consciousness  of  one 
another.  Old  grandmothers  and  young  girls  would  be 
standing  together  praying  at  the  same  time,  and  pouring 
out  to  God  their  personal  longings.  There  was  no  need  of  a 
speaker.  All  my  wife  had  to  do  was  to  check  the  torrent  of 
prayer  now  and  then  with  a  hymn,  or  by  reading  a  passage 
of  Scripture  when  signs  of  strained  emotion  began  to  appear. 

When  Sabbath  came  we  met  in  the  open  air.  All  were 
admitted  to  this  service,  and  about  7000  were  present. 
Under  a  shingled  roof  which  stands  over  the  raised  platform 
the  missioner  could  easily  speak  so  as  to  be  heard  at  the 
outskirts  of  the  crowd.  Thousands  of  the  heathen  had  come, 
for  already  the  report  of  the  wonderful  events  of  Saturday 
had  spread  over  the  district,  and  they  came  with  wonder 
in  their  hearts.  But  not  a  few  ran  farther  away,  refusing 
to  come  near  the  station  lest  they  too  should  be  drawn  in. 

The  address  was  a  plain,  frank  evangelistic  appeal,  chiefly 
intended  for  the  multitude  who  had  gathered  from  the 
villages  around,  and  again  when  it  closed  the  overwhelming 


286      A  WONDERFUL  CONVENTION 

scenes  followed,  souls  ciying  out  in  agony,  women  standing 
up  quivering  with  dreadful  emotion,  and  some,  too,  with  a 
great  light  upon  their  faces  pouring  out  the  joy  and  thank- 
fulness of  their  hearts  to  God,  for  that  they  had  seen  Him  face 
to  face. 

In  the  afternoon  we  gathered  at  the  Lord's  Table  a  com- 
pany of  1250  Christians,  who  met  for  a  truly  eucharistic 
service. 

At  night  we  would  have  liked  to  have  held  a  closing 
service  for  all,  but  we  feared  for  what  might  happen  to  a  great 
meeting  in  a  dimly  lighted  and  crowded  church,  while 
strange  emotions  were  mastering  them.  So  we  gathered  some 
three  hundred  teachers  and  elders  together  in  a  side  room, 
and  had  a  meeting  of  such  calm  rejoicing,  and  eager  receptive- 
ness,  as  I  have  never  seen.  Each  European  spoke,  and  when 
we  closed  we  sang  the  Doxology,  but  no  sooner  had  it  finished 
than  it  burst  out  again. 

On  Monday  morning  at  dawn,  I  was  awakened  by  a  man 
shouting  aloud,  his  voice  quivering  with  emotion,  "  Halle- 
lujah, what  a  Saviour ! "  He  had  just  stepped  out  of  his 
house  after  his  night's  sleep,  and  this  was  his  salutation  to 
the  dawn. 

When  two  or  three  days  had  passed  we  started  out  with 
Mr.  Inwood  to  hold  a  two  days'  convention  at  Chinde's, 
sixty  or  seventy  miles  away.  All  along  the  route  of  our 
journey  we  saw  how  deeply  the  tribe  had  been  stirred  by  the 
strange  events  of  the  past  week.  When  we  rested  at  Milala 
for  lunch  on  the  first  day  out,  we  found  a  thousand  people 
waiting  us,  that  they  might  have  a  message  from  the  stranger. 
And  after  a  little  rest  we  gathered  together  in  the  school 
and  had  a  service  awful  in  its  solemnity.  In  the  evening  we 
waited  a  while  at  the  Government  station  where  we  found 
that  Mr.  Hughes,  the  collector,  had  arranged  for  his  police 
and  workers  to  gather  that  they,  too,  might  hear  something 
of  what  had  so  strangely  moved  the  tribe.    And  we  held  a 


A  WONDERFUL  CONVENTION      287 

short  service  Avhere  eager,  solemn  faces  looked  up,  drinking 
in  with  an  intense  wistfulness  every  word  that  was  spoken. 

Wlien  we  got  to  Chinde's  we  found  a  huge  concourse  of 
people  gathered,  and  immediately  services  began.  On 
Sunday  not  less  than  six  thousand  met  under  the  shade  of  a 
large  tree,  and  listened  to  a  fervid  evangelistic  appeal  that 
seemed  to  be  most  fruitful  in  its  results. 

Thereafter,  Mr.  Inwood  went  on  to  Ekwendeni,  and  then 
to  Bandawe  and  Livingstonia,  holding  conventions  similar 
to  that  he  had  held  at  Loudon,  and  with  the  same  mighty 
and  awe-inspiring  results. 

Meanwhile,  we  started  to  hold  a  series  of  local  conventions 
all  over  our  district,  one  every  week  for  eight  or  nine  weeks, 
seeking  to  produce  permanent  and  ethical  fruits  from  the 
deep  impressions  which  were  abroad.  Almost  everywhere 
we  had  the  same  crowded  audiences,  the  same  solemn 
atmosphere,  the  same  victories  and  rejoicings. 

"  What  an  emotional  story  !  "  some  one  will  say.  I  admit 
it  is  a  tale  of  strong  emotion.  But  why  should  we  be  so 
suspicious  of  the  free  expression  of  deep  feeling  ?  We  do 
not  want  to  super-impose  on  those  sons  of  Africa  our  ex- 
pressionless Scottish  characters.  If  God  has  given  to  these 
people  who  live  under  sunny  skies  and  in  soft  airs,  natures 
that  respond  quickly  and  audibly  to  outside  influences, 
why  should  we  not  rejoice  when  they  sing  because  the  Spirit 
of  God  has  touched  them  ?  To  those  whose  ears  are  opened 
to  heavenly  music,  there  is  no  sound  so  sweet  and  entrancing 
as  that  of  souls  rejoicing  because  they  have  met  with  the 
Lord  Himself. 

Did  the  whole  movement  merely  express  itself  in  a  passing 
emotion,  I  too  should  be  sceptical  of  its  good,  but  1  believe 
its  tendencies  were  all  towards  righteousness.  We  told  our 
evangelists  to  discourage  any  physical  manifestations,  lest 
the  people  should  attend  to  those  rather  than  the  spiritual, 
and  by  systematic  instruction  we  tried  to  lead  their  very 


288      A  WONDERFUL  CONVENTION 

receptive  minds  into  deeper  truths,  and  to  an  expression 
in  conduct  of  their  devotion  to  Christ.  We  saw  feuds  healed, 
debts  paid,  the  widowed  and  lonely  befriended,  a  spirit  of 
brotherly  kindness  created  in  villages  whose  atmosphere 
was  bitter  with  quarrels.  Prayer  became  a  joyful  and  real 
communion  with  God.  The  Bible  spoke  as  the  living  Word 
of  God.  Christians  entered  into  diligent  service  of  the 
Church.  Heathen  were  brought  to  the  feet  of  God.  The 
tribe  was  moved  to  its  depths  with  a  conviction  that  God 
was  among  us. 

These  were  fruits  worth  seeing.  And  although  the 
intense  fervour  of  the  movement  soon  died  away,  there  has 
been  left  to  the  native  Church  an  inheritance  which  has 
greatly  enriched  it,  a  memory  of  the  rapture  and  power  that 
comes  when  God  reveals  Himself  to  men,  a  longing  for  re- 
newed displays  of  His  glowing  presence,  and  an  intense  con- 
viction that  there  is  no  power  in  the  world  so  irresistible  as 
the  power  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

A   VISIT  TO  THE  SENGA 

IN  Chapter  VII  I  have  given  some  account  of  the  opening 
up  of  the  Loangwa  Valley  to  mission  work.  Shortly 
after  that  visit  we  were  able  to  start  three  schools  to 
which  we  sent  Ngoni  teachers.  Year  by  year  these  schools 
have  been  held  and  extensions  have  been  made  until  we 
have  now  between  thirty  and  forty  village  groups  occupied. 
The  population  is  very  scattered,  though  the  villages  are 
mostly  moderately  big.  The  area  covered  by  these  schools 
is  about  ten  thousand  square  miles.  Every  year  a  visit  has 
been  paid  to  those  in  the  northern  area  by  the  European 
missionary  at  Ekwendeni,  and  to  those  in  the  middle  and 
southern  area  by  the  European  missionary  at  Loudon. 
Other  sections  of  this  great  western  area  have  been  occupied 
by  extensions  from  the  other  older  stations  of  the  mission. 
These  annual  tours  have  been  very  trying  sometimes, 
especially  if  the  hot  season  was  drawing  on,  as  the  country 
is  low-lying  and  waterless  ;  but  the  interest  of  them  is 
always  peculiarly  strong.  At  first  we  worked  entirely  by 
Ngoni  teachers,  but  as  the  intelligence  of  the  Senga  grew 
and  a  small  local  church  began  to  arise  we  were  able  to  select 
a  few  Senga  to  be  monitors,  and  they  gradually  increased  in 
educational  value  until  they  were  able  to  take  up  the  work 
of  teachers. 

The  Senga  people,  however,  have  always  asked  for  Ngoni 
for  their  schools,  partly  because  we  were  able  to  send  more 
senior  and  advanced  youths  than  were  to  be  found  among 
T  289 


290  DR.  AND  MRS.   BOXER 

their  own  people,  and  partly  because  they  brought  with 
them  a  prestige  and  authority  which  clung  to  them  from 
the  days  when  they  were  the  raiders  and  conquerors.  We 
had  to  use  great  care  in  the  selection  of  the  teachers  we  sent, 
for  the  moral  temptations  that  were  put  in  their  way  were 
very  great.  And  it  is  a  matter  for  much  thankfulness  that 
only  one  or  two  succumbed  to  these  insidious  and  aggressive 
temptations  through  all  these  years. 

In  1905  an  attempt  was  made  to  occupy  Marambo  with 
Europeans,  when  my  colleagues,  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Boxer,  opened 
a  station  at  Kazembe.  With  great  energy  a  good  brick 
dwelling-house  was  erected,  but  all  the  time  this  work  was 
going  on  Mrs.  Boxer  lay  very  ill,  and  the  house  was  only 
occupied  a  week  when  Dr.  Boxer  found  he  must  leave  the 
country  and  start  immediately  for  home  if  his  wife  were  to 
live.  She  was  brought  to  Loudon  in  a  dying  condition,  and, 
in  spite  of  all  the  skilled  and  loving  care  that  was  given  her, 
she  died  on  the  lake  steamer,  and  was  buried  at  Fort  John- 
ston. We  greatly  grieved  over  the  loss  of  this  bright  and 
devoted  friend.  The  cause  of  the  Senga  had  lain  very  much 
on  her  heart,  and  it  was  with  a  great  joy  she  found  that  she 
and  her  husband  were  to  live  among  them.  But  all  that 
she  was  permitted  to  give  was  these  few  months  of  work — 
and  her  life. 

By  1909  we  had  extended  the  sphere  of  our  schools  across 
the  Loangwa  and  along  the  base  of  the  Mchinga  Mountains 
right  down  to  Nawalya.  Here  we  touch  the  sphere  which 
the  Roman  Catholic  mission  of  the  \^1lite  Fathers  is  work- 
ing. We  had  come  to  a  mutual  arrangement  with  the 
Catholics  through  the  Government,  by  which  the  country 
we  and  they  worked  was  delimited,  and  we  agreed  that  we 
would  not  trespass  into  their  sphere,  nor  they  into  ours,  lest 
confusion  and  civil  strife  should  arise  through  the  rivalries 
of  the  competing  schools. 

But  within  a  year  a  severe  set-back  was  put  upon  the 


SLEEPING  SICKNESS  291 

work  when  sleeping  sickness  was  found  to  be  in  Rhodesia. 
The  Nyasaland  Government  immediately  closed  the  Rho- 
desian  border,  and  all  communication  with  the  Senga  was 
cut  off.  Knowing  that  this  closure  was  likely  to  be  applied, 
I  hurried  across  and  called  all  the  Rhodesian  teachers  and 
Christians  together.  We  faced  the  crisis  which  had  come  to 
our  work,  which  would  prevent  any  Ngoni  teachers  being 
sent  to  carry  on  the  schools,  and  after  holding  an  examina- 
tion we  selected  a  few  Senga  boys  to  act  as  monitors.  With 
these  new  monitors  and  the  teachers  who  had  been  under 
training  for  the  past  nine  or  ten  years,  we  found  that  by 
careful  distribution  we  could  occupy  every  one  of  our  schools. 
Directions  for  the  work  of  the  coming  year  were  given  them 
in  careful  detail,  and  they  were  urged  to  do  their  very  best 
and  prove  themselves  worthy  during  the  isolation  that  was 
coming  on  them.  Then  they  were  dismissed  to  their  allo- 
cated work. 

The  day  I  got  across  the  border  I  met  the  native  police 
who  were  going  out  to  close  off  all  communication,  and  with 
much  relief  I  returned  home  feeling  that  work  would  not 
be  interrupted  and  that  a  way  would  be  found  to  supervise 
the  weak  efforts  of  these  local  teachers.  And  it  was  so, 
for  a  few  months  afterwards  we  were  able  to  get  passes 
from  the  Government  to  go  through  and  visit  the  schools, 
provided  we  submitted  to  a  medical  examination  on  our 
return. 

Meanwhile  the  Rhodesian  Government  had  appointed  a 
Sleeping  Sickness  Commission,  and  the  doctors  were  tour- 
ing over  the  country  examining  the  villagers  for  signs  of  the 
disease.  Some  cases  were  found  west  of  the  Loangwa  among 
our  schools  there,  and  the  consequence  was  that  now  the 
Rhodesian  Government  absolutely  closed  their  border,  for- 
bade any  communication  with  the  infected  area,  and  asked 
us  not  to  hold  our  schools  where  the  sickness  was  lest  we 
should  encourage  the  intercommunication  of  villages,  and 


292  TSETSE  FLIES 

by  the  coming  together  of  natives  give  opportunity  for  the 
further  spread  of  the  disease. 

This  was  a  very  sad  but  necessary  arrangement.  Our 
schools  beyond  the  Loangwa  were  so  new,  and  although 
a  group  of  men  and  women  who  professed  to  follow 
Christ  had  already  arisen  at  each  school,  they  were 
still  so  ignorant  and  feeble  that  we  could  only  look 
forward  to  their  severance  from  all  teaching  with  painful 
misgivings. 

After  some  months  I  was  able  to  get  a  special  permit  from 
the  Government  to  travel  in  the  Loangwa  Valley,  but  on  the 
condition  that  I  did  not  take  more  than  three  Nyasaland 
boys  with  me. 

As  soon  as  possible  I  got  ready  for  my  trip,  and  I  sent  a 
message  to  all  the  Senga  teachers  to  meet  me  at  Kazembe 
hat  I  might  hold  a  month's  school  for  them.  After 
that  was  over  I  intended  to  visit  various  centres  and  dis- 
pense the  sacraments,  and  hold  special  services  for  the 
Christians. 

I  took  with  me  two  senior  teachers  and  my  cook  as  my 
complement  of  Nyasaland  boys.  The  carriers  from  Loudon 
brought  my  loads  to  the  border  and  returned  home,  and 
Rhodesian  boys  met  me  at  the  border  to  take  me  on  to 
Kazembe.  There  was  a  good  road  the  first  part  of  the  way, 
so  I  rode  my  motor  bicycle  for  twenty  or  thirty  miles,  and 
then  leaving  it  in  charge  of  a  native  store  boy,  I  took  to  a 
push  bicycle  and  on  it  made  the  rest  of  the  tour.  The  track 
down  to  the  valley  was  moderately  good,  but  the  tsetse  flies 
have  become  very  numerous  of  late.  In  some  of  the  bamboo- 
covered  river-beds  where  I  had  to  dismount  and  push  my 
bicycle  they  swarmed  about  me  in  scores  and  fastened  on 
my  neck  and  back.  Some  did  not  seem  to  bite  very  severely, 
but  occasionally  I  would  feel  something  like  a  red-hot  needle 
being  driven  into  me,  and  would  hit  out  wildly  to  slaughter 
my  enemy.     But  although  scores  were  about  me  I  very 


OPENING  THE  ROADS  293 

seldom  killed  one.  The  natives  have  a  curious  way  of  kill- 
ing these  pests.  When  they  see  one  settled  on  their  body 
they  take  a  knife  and,  pressing  their  skin  with  it  as  if  to 
drive  the  blood  up  to  the  fly,  they  move  the  knife  slowly 
along  and  the  fly  seems  to  get  caught  with  the  press  of 
blood  and  flesh,  for  a  quiet  turn  of  the  blade  crushes  it  to 
death  without  its  making  any  attempt  to  get  away.  When 
I  sat  down  in  a  village  a  number  of  boys  always  gathered 
about  me  and  amused  themselves  catching  the  flies  that  had 
followed  me  from  the  bush  until  they  had  all  disappeared. 
It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  the  tsetse  does  not  go  near  a 
village  and  is  afraid  of  village  smoke.  I  have  found  them 
very  irritating  in  some  villages,  and  they  even  enter  the 
huts  and  annoy  the  inhabitants.  But,  of  course,  there  is 
neither  shelter  nor  safety  for  them  where  people  are,  and 
they  are  not  so  numerous  away  from  the  protection  of  bam- 
boos and  low  bush. 

It  is  a  notable  thing  that  there  are  villages  at  long  inter- 
vals along  all  the  approaches  to  Marambo.  Wlien  we  went 
there  first  the  land  was  entirely  deserted,  but  now  that  the 
Rhodesian  Government  has  begun  to  administer  these  lands, 
and  that  the  Wemba  on  the  west,  and  the  Ngoni  in  the  east, 
no  longer  send  out  their  war  parties,  the  original  inhabi- 
tants are  returning  to  their  old  gardens  and  hunting  grounds. 
The  minute  knowledge  which  these  Rhodesian  collectors 
have  of  their  people  is  amazing.  They  are  constantly  travel- 
ling over  their  wide  and  thinly  populated  districts,  and  by 
their  administration  of  justice,  by  their  system  of  opening  up 
a  network  of  roads,  and  by  the  opportunities  they  give  the 
people  of  remunerative  labour,  they  have  changed  the  whole 
social  condition  of  the  people  from  fear  to  confidence,  and 
from  poverty  to  comparative  wealth. 

When  we  arrived  at  Kazembes,  on  the  third  day  of  our 
journey,  we  found  about  seventy  teachers  gathered  for  the 
month's  school.    The  pleasant,  cool  brick  house  which  Dr. 


294  AN  EAGER  SCHOOL 

Boxer  had  built  was  ready  for  me,  but  we  had  immediately 
to  set  about  providing  sleeping  quarters  for  the  teachers. 
This  was  soon  done  by  erecting  a  number  of  large  square 
grass  huts,  roomy  and  airy,  which  would  give  them  shelter 
from  the  fierce  noon  heat  and  from  the  chilly  atmosphere  of 
the  early  morning. 

School  immediately  began  with  great  energy.  For  two 
years  these  simple  teachers  had  little  opportunity  for  self- 
improvement,  and  they  had  made  no  advance  in  standard 
or  pay ;  so  now  they  were  determined  to  use  their  oppor- 
tunity to  the  full.  For  seven  hours  a  day  we  taught,  working 
on  the  ordinary  school  subjects,  explaining  the  Bible  and 
catechism,  giving  talks  on  school  methods,  and  so  on.  A 
more  eager  school  one  could  not  have  desired.  Far  into 
the  night  the  lessons  were  continued,  memorizing  "  ques- 
tions "  and  verses,  puzzling  over  arithmetical  problems,  and 
stumbling  in  the  most  painful  fashion  over  the  English 
Readers.  Night  by  night  I  had  to  demand  silence  when  the 
hours  were  far  advanced  so  that  one  might  get  a  little  sleep 
and  be  ready  for  the  next  day's  work. 

It  was  a  great  difficulty  to  get  sufficient  food  for  all  who 
attended  the  school.  Meal  could  be  got  in  abundance  and 
at  cheap  prices,  but  the  necessary  relish  to  eat  with  their 
thick  porridge  was  more  difficult  to  find.  I  took  my  exer- 
cise in  the  early  morning  and  evenings  by  visiting  the  places 
which  game  was  known  to  frequent,  but  had  very  little 
sporting  luck.  Indeed,  I  was  pursued  by  a  most  annoying 
ill-luck. 

One  morning  my  guide  took  me  to  where  he  knew  I  should 
be  sure  to  find  something,  and  after  an  hour's  fruitless  tramp 
he  suddenly  led  me  up  against  a  fine  herd  of  eland.  There 
they  were,  within  thirty  yards,  standing  under  the  shade  of 
trees,  their  horns  laid  back  along  their  necks,  their  tails 
swishing  away  the  flies,  and  quite  unconscious  of  our  pre- 
sence.   My  guide's  mouth  fairly  watered  in  anticipation  of 


GAME  295 

the  feast  as  he  waited  for  me  to  fire,  but  I  could  onlyj^lay 
down  my  rifle  and  tell  him  that  eland  were  protected,  and 
on  my  licence  I  could  not  shoot  them.  His  thought  was. 
Who  is  to  know  what  you  do  in  this  far  land  ?  But  one's 
European  conscience  respected  the  regulations  of  the  Govern- 
ment, and  we  turned  away  leaving  our  sweet  feast  untasted. 
Not  another  beast  was  seen  that  morning. 

Next  day  we  went  out  again  before  dawn,  and  just  about 
sunrise  came  upon  a  nice  herd  of  half  a  dozen  zebra.  They 
were  feeding  quietly  on  the  short,  sweet  grass,  and  we  lay 
within  twenty  yards  of  them.  Again  I  had  to  explain  that 
I  could  not  shoot,  for  in  Rhodesia  zebra  also  are  protected. 
With  a  look  of  infinite  disgust  at  my  honesty,  the  guide  rose 
and  left  the  zebra,  and  although  we  tramped  for  an  hour 
or  two  longer  we  could  not  strike  upon  another  living 
animal. 

Next  day  Mr.  Hall,  the  collector,  arrived  at  Kazembe  to 
spend  a  night  with  me.  I  told  him  of  my  difficulty  in  getting 
food  for  the  teachers,  and  my  bad  luck  in  coming  across  only 
prohibited  game^ — eland,  and  zebra. 

"  What  !  "  he  cried,  "  do  you  not  know  that  the  protec- 
tion is  removed  ?  Owing  to  the  spread  of  tsetse  you  are 
allowed  to  kill  both  zebra  and  eland.  But  the  gnu  is  still 
protected." 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  I'll  go  out  at  once  and  slay." 

So  I  took  my  gun  and  made  off  quickly  for  a  good  sport- 
ing neighbourhood.  I  had  not  gone  very  far  when  my  boy 
caught  my  arm  and  told  me  to  look.  "  What  is  it  ?  "  I 
asked.  "  Great  beasts,  splendid  eating,"  he  answered,  and 
there  was  a  herd  of  a  dozen  gnu  approaching  us  !  Was 
there  ever  such  luck  ?  When  I  sat  down  and  refused  to  fire 
I  think  that  boy  must  have  cursed  my  conscience  with  in- 
effable words. 

A  day  or  two  afterwards,  however,  a  change  took  place 
for  the  better,  and  I  began  to  get  more  than  sufficient  for 


296  KAZEMBE 

my  hungry  pupils.  One  evening  I  went  out  at  sunset  along 
with  two  boys  to  the  hills  behind  our  house.  We  had  not 
gone  half  an  hour  when  I  heard  the  snorting  of  big  game  in 
the  thieket  through  which  we  were  passing.  We  fancied 
that  a  herd  near  at  hand  had  been  startled  by  the  sound  of 
our  movements,  so  I  crept  along  on  my  hands  and  knees 
towards  the  sound,  and  at  last,  as  the  night  was  falling, 
came  upon  a  little  herd  of  waterbuck,  snorting  most  vigor- 
ously. But  it  was  not  I  who  w^as  disturbing  them.  Un- 
perceived  by  me,  another  khaki-coloured  hunter  was  creeping 
towards  them.  At  last  I  fired,  and  a  fine  big  bull  dropped. 
At  the  same  moment  up  leaped  a  lion  and  started  off  to  the 
left  with  what  must  have  been  a  feeling  of  deep  disgust.  I 
had  done  him  out  of  a  nice  savoury  supper. 

When  the  month's  school  was  over,  and  the  teachers  from 
a  distance  had  dispersed  to  their  homes,  we  held  a  little 
convention  at  Kazembe.  To  this  the  people  gathered  from 
the  villages  within  two  days'  journey,  but  not  more  than 
three  hundred  were  present.  It  was  a  great  opportunity  for 
me,  and  for  three  days  I  tried  to  give  them  some  vital 
teaching  which  would  be  food  to  them  in  the  coming  months 
when  they  were  alone.  It  is  only  seven  years  since  the 
gospel  first  came  to  these  people,  and  their  progress  in 
Christian  knowledge  is  but  limited.  The  muddy  depths  of 
heathen  immorality  from  which  they  have  been  drawn  were 
very  great,  and  some  of  the  filth  may  still  cling  to  their 
garments  ;  but  there  are  some  who  have  heard  the  call  of 
Christ  to  purer  living  and  to  the  sanctification  of  the  home, 
and  their  light  grows  steadily  brighter. 

From  Kazembe  we  had  a  very  trying  journey  to  Chikwa. 
It  ought  not  to  have  been  so  arduous  had  we  had  more  time 
and  taken  shorter  stages.  I  have  covered  the  same  ground 
many  a  time  with  enjoyment.  But  the  sun  was  very  hot, 
and  the  distances  between  the  water  pans  very  long.  On 
the  second  day  especially  the  heat  was  most  distressing,  and 


LIONS   IN  THE  PATH  297 

the  tsetse  flies  seemed  to  be  particularly  numerous  and 
vicious.  They  hung  about  me  in  clouds,  following  though  I 
was  cycling,  and  biting  with  positive  rage.  What  with  the 
fierce  sun,  intense  thirst,  a  bicycle  that  was  punctured  con- 
tinually on  these  thorny  paths  and  that  required  prolonged 
mendings  while  tsetse  buzzed  around  and  stung  with  mad- 
dening irritation,  I  began  to  think  that  perhaps  one  had 
to  endure  a  little  to  bring  the  Gospel  to  the  Senga.  And  I 
said  to  myself  that  when  I  got  to  the  village  in  the  evening 
I  must  preach  the  most  earnest  sermon  I  ever  preached,  for 
it  would  be  delivered  at  some  cost.  But  alas  for  one's  good 
resolutions  !  When  the  night  fell,  and  I  had  got  cleaned  and 
fed,  I  could  only  sit  on  a  long  chair  in  silence,  much  too 
tired  to  preach  or  be  in  earnest. 

Next  morning  we  started  between  three  and  four  o'clock, 
after  commending  ourselves  to  God.  It  was  very  dark,  and 
we  felt  rather  than  saw  the  narrow  path  as  we  marched 
along  in  silence.  But  how  pleasant  it  was  to  move  now  when 
the  flies  were  asleep  and  the  sun  was  shining  on  Eastern 
Asia  ! 

My  cook  marched  at  the  head  of  the  caravan,  and  we 
followed  close  behind  him.  He  had  been  over  this  path 
man}''  times  with  us,  and  felt  sure  of  its  direction.  He  car- 
ried my  shot-gun,  and  a  boy  behind  me  carried  my  rifle. 
Suddenly  the  cook  stopped — there  was  something  dark  on 
the  path  before  him,  and  he  could  hear  its  breathing.  He 
thought  it  was  some  wild  game,  and  took  a  step  nearer  to 
look,  when  suddenly  there  burst  forth  the  angry  growl  of  a 
lion.  The  men  shouted  "  Lions  !  "  and  prepared  to  run. 
I  turned  to  get  my  rifle,  but  found  its  bearer  had  fallen  into 
the  rear  and  was  not  at  hand.  The  cook,  who  is  ever  a 
bungler,  began  to  feel  in  his  pockets  for  his  cartridges,  for- 
getting that  they  were  already  in  the  barrels  of  his  gun. 
But  before  he  could  remember  this,  and  most  happily  for 
him,  the  lion  crashed  off,  leaving  us  not  a  little  relieved 


298  A  CONTRAST 

and  thankful,  and  with  an  interesting  subject  for  con- 
versation. 

Half  a  mile  farther  on  there  was  another  sudden  stop. 
This  time  it  was  a  leopard  growling  in  front,  but  before  we 
could  see  it,  it  made  off.  And  then  the  dawn  began  to  break, 
and  the  beautiful  world  of  forest  through  which  we  were 
walking  began  to  appear. 

When  the  sun  rose  and  the  path  was  plain  before  us  I 
mounted  the  bicycle  and  rode  on  ahead.  About  ten  o'clock 
I  got  to  Mtonya,  which  used  to  be  Chikwa's  head  village. 
The  people  knew  I  was  on  the  road,  and  a  band  of  children 
had  come  out  to  meet  me  and  race  in  with  the  bicycle.  But 
there  was  nothing  to  race  with  except  a  somewhat  tired 
European  tramping  solitarily  along,  for  I  had  left  my  bicycle 
in  the  thicket  many  miles  behind,  hopelessly  punctured,  to 
await  some  carrier  who  would  bring  it  into  camp. 

What  a  friendly  sight  those  children  were,  the  best 
evidence  of  the  new  peace  and  security  that  is  over  this 
land  now  !  The  day  before,  when  I  was  riding  with  many 
interruptions,  and  somewhat  desponding,  I  had  met  a  num- 
ber of  men,  women,  and  children  who  had  started  out  on  a 
journey  in  the  cool  of  the  afternoon.  The  men  had  a  cour- 
teous greeting  for  me,  the  women  had  happy  smiles  for  my 
remarks,  and  even  the  children  had  some  bright  little  word. 
Instinctively  my  mind  flew  back  to  those  days  when  we  first 
had  come  among  the  Senga  and  met  with  a  terrified  recep- 
tion from  the  villagers  huddled  within  their  great  stockades. 

And  as  I  stayed  on  for  the  next  few  days  in  Chikwa's 
villages  the  contrast  was  ever  with  me.  I  passed  through 
the  sites  of  the  old  villages  on  the  morning  of  ni)^  arrival. 
There  I  had  stayed  twelve  years  before  in  dirt  and  dis- 
comfort, within  a  filthy  village  where  the  houses,  overrun 
with  rats  and  vermin,  were  crowded  within  a  great  palisade 
of  stakes,  and  hidden  by  huge  thorn  trees.  That  site  was 
now  a  rich  garden,  and  the  palisade  was  gone.    Now  I  had 


CHANGED  CUSTOMS  299 

my  quarters  in  the  old  store  of  a  trading  company,  just 
outside  a  neat  and  open  village  where  banana  trees 
were  growing,  and  all  day  frank  and  friendly  natives 
surrounded  me. 

When  I  got  to  my  destination  I  found  that  about  five 
hundred  people  had  gathered  for  the  convention  I  was  to 
hold.  They  were  well  dressed,  intelligent  looking,  most  of 
them  able  to  read  a  little,  and  all  making  some  profession  of 
Christianity.  The  meetings  had  already  begun,  under  the 
guidance  of  one  of  my  companion  Ngoni  teachers  who  had 
gone  on  ahead,  and  after  I  had  had  breakfast  I  was  called 
to  stand  forth  in  all  the  dirt  and  stains  of  my  travelling 
guise  and  begin  my  series  of  sermons. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  little  convention  I  received  into 
the  Church  by  baptism  twenty-five  adults.  One  of  them  had 
been  the  husband  of  the  chieftainess  Chikwa  when  I  arrived 
here  first.  But  three  or  four  years  ago  this  fierce  old  woman 
had  died,  and  her  husband  fled  to  Ngoniland  to  escape  the 
death  he  thought  was  lying  in  wait  for  him  at  the  hands  of 
her  people.  He  soon  learned,  however,  that  these  killing  days 
were  over,  and  here  he  was  living  safely  among  them  and 
governing  what  was  once  her  head  village. 

The  great  event  of  our  gathering  was  the  ordaining  to  the 
eldership  of  two  Senga  Christians.  They  had  been  chosen 
by  their  fellow-Christians  during  a  hurried  visit  I  had  paid 
to  Marambo  six  months  before,  and  now,  with  their  ordina- 
tion, we  left  an  organized  Church  among  the  Senga. 

Three  days  stand  out  in  my  memory  of  this  land  of  great 
forest  reaches,  and  blazing  sun.  The  first  is  that  day  thirteen 
years  ago  when  I  first  saw  the  stockaded  villages,  and  met 
this  poverty-stricken,  diseased,  and  craven  people.  The 
next  was  four  years  after,  when  I  was  accompanied  by  my 
wife  and  we  first  spread  the  Table  of  the  Lord  in  this  land 
and  sat  down  with  a  dozen  native  Christians.  And  now 
came  this  day,  when  two  of  these  first  Christians  were  set 


300  CHANGED  CUSTOMS 

apart  before  a  solemnized  congregation  to  be  elders  of  the 
Church. 

For  the  memory  of  such  days  and  all  that  lies  between 
them  I  at  least  cannot  thank  God  with  dry  eyes.  The  privi- 
lege of  bringing  to  a  people  the  knowledge  of  the  living 
Christ  is  unspeakable. 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

PROGRESS  AND  PROBLEMS 

WHEN  one  attempts  to  estimate  the  progress  that 
this  land  has  made  during  the  last  twenty-five 
years,  one  immediately  recognizes  that  the  forces  at 
work  for  the  awakening  of  the  people  have  been  very  varied, 
and  it  would  be  absurd  egotism  to  claim  for  the  mission  a 
sole  regenerative  agency.  The  raiding  days  did  not  cease 
simply  because  schools  were  opened  and  the  Gospel  of  Peace 
taught.  Some  of  the  strongest  fighting  men  would  have 
nothing  to  do  with  the  mission  for  years  after  the  national 
raiding  habits  were  abandoned.  But  every  one  had  come  to 
recognize,  as  even  the  Ngoni  on  the  east  side  of  the  Lake 
recognized,  that  West  Nyasa  was  surrounded  by  the  strong 
forces  of  the  British  Administration,  who  now  were  exer- 
cising a  paternal  oversight  of  the  tribes  which  once  were 
the  favourite  raiding  grounds  of  the  Ngoni,  and  that 
trespassing  into  these  would  be  followed  by  retribution. 

The  presence  of  trading  companies  and  planters  within 
the  Protectorate  also  greatly  increased  the  material  pros- 
perity of  the  people,  and  introduced  that  industry  and 
wealth  without  which  advancement  in  civilization  would 
be  impossible.  These  and  many  other  agencies,  combined 
with  the  widely  extended  influence  of  the  mission  teaching, 
all  assisted  in  introducing  the  new  era  of  peace  and  progress 
in  which  we  now  live. 

Twenty-five  years  ago,  practically  the  sole  occupation  of 
the  men  of  this  tribe  was  raiding.     Every  year  at  harvest 

301 


302  OLD-TIME  RAIDS 

time  the  impis  gathered,  sometimes  for  a  great  combined 
excursion  to  the  far  west  or  elsewhere,  when  they  would  be 
away  for  weeks  on  end  ;  sometimes  for  independent  raids 
on  the  part  of  the  chiefs  to  the  Henga  and  Poka  in  the  north, 
to  the  Tonga  along  the  Lake  shore,  to  the  Chewa  in  the 
south,  or  to  the  Senga  in  the  west.  In  these  forays  large 
numbers  of  captives  were  brought  back,  and  quantities  of 
live  stock,  and  the  sole  wealth  of  the  tribe  was  got  by  robbing 
their  neighbours. 

It  is  now  many  a  long  year  since  the  last  public  raid  was 
made.  The  entire  military  system  of  the  tribe  has  dis- 
appeared. The  war-dresses  are  rotten,  and  are  only  now 
seen  in  sport,  or  as  curios  for  sale  to  European  travellers. 
The  wide  belt  of  uninhabited  land  which  used  to  surround 
Ngoniland  is  now  covered  with  the  scattered  villages  of 
those  who  have  returned  to  cultivate  the  gardens  of  their 
fathers.  The  surrounding  tribes  have  withdrawn  from 
the  marshes  and  thickets  in  which  they  hid  themselves. 
Their  stockades  have  disappeared,  and  people  who  piled 
their  houses  in  the  water  of  the  lake  now  build  in  the  open 
country  and  right  up  to  the  borders  of  Ngoniland.  The 
routes  that  were  closed  by  war  are  opened  again,  and  the 
trackless  forest  is  threaded  with  paths  and  broad  roads 
along  which  men  and  women  of  every  tribe  and  language 
in  Central  Africa  may  be  met  carrying  their  burdens,  and 
fearlessly  pursuing  their  journeys, 

A  British  magistracy  now  directs  the  affairs  of  the  land, 
and  guides  the  work  of  the  chiefs.  Bribery  is  criminal. 
The  strong  are  not  allowed  to  opj)ress  the  weak.  The 
meanest  serf  has  equal  opportunity  for  justice  with  the 
greatest  chief. 

Twenty-five  years  ago  the  people  dressed  chiefly  in  skins, 
and  for  long  after  the  only  calico  in  the  land  was  the  few 
yards  that  were  got  by  working  for  the  mission,  or  as 
tribute  or  plunder  from  some  neighbouring  tribe.     There 


Native  Carpenter's  Work 

Specimens  of  the  furniture  turned  out  by  the  native  carpenters.  The  wood  is  sawn 
in  the  neighbourhood.  A  native  carpenter  serves  five  years'  apprenticeship,  and  can 
earn  as  a  journeyman  from  fifteen  to  thirty  shillings  a  month. 


Weaving  Cloth 

This  is  a  strong  coarse  cloth  from  the  cotton  grown  around  the  village.  A  piece  oi 
cloth  six  feet  by  three  costs  about  three  shillings  in  barter  goods.  The  industry  has 
almost  disappeared,  through  the  introduction  of  Manchester  goods. 


PRESENT-TIME  SECURITY  303 

was  not  a  piece  of  silver  or  copper  money  in  the  whole 
country,  and  what  wealth  in  cattle  and  live  stock  was  in 
the  villages  was  the  sole  property  of  chiefs  and  head  men. 
No  serf  could  acquire  wealth,  for  what  he  had  belonged  to 
his  master.  No  industrious  native  could  prosper  more 
than  his  neighbour,  or  he  would  be  accused  of  sorcery. 

To-day  there  are  more  than  two  dozen  stores  for  the  sale 
of  European  goods  among  the  Ngoni,  and  almost  every 
one  of  them  is  served  by  a  native  of  this  land.  There 
are  four  European  stations,  at  each  of  which  a  constant 
supply  of  labour  is  required.  Thousands  of  men  go  south 
to  work  in  the  Rhodesian  and  Johannesburg  mines,  thou- 
sands of  others  to  the  various  labour  centres  of  Nyasaland, 
or  far  north  to  the  Katanga  country  in  the  Congo  Free 
State.  Scores  of  builders,  carpenters,  sawyers,  clerks, 
storemen,  and  hundreds  of  teachers,  by  their  skilled  labour 
assist  to  increase  the  material  prosperity  of  the  land.  And 
in  this  tribe  alone  not  less  than  £5000  a  year  is  spent  in  buy- 
ing European  goods  in  the  little  stores,  and  over  £2500 
is  contributed  to  Government  in  the  paying  of  hut-taxes. 
In  addition,  some  thousands  of  pounds'  worth  of  goods  are 
brought  into  the  country  every  year  by  labourers  returning 
from  the  south.  The  masters  may  still  claim  from  their 
serfs  a  proportion  of  their  earnings,  and  friends  and  relatives 
extort  the  greater  part  of  the  savings  of  those  who  have 
worked — that  is  the  inevitable  result  of  the  communistic 
spirit  of  the  people  ;  but  no  man  can  curse  and  ruin  his 
neighbour  for  his  increasing  prosperity,  and  no  man  can 
lay  hands  on  goods  that  are  not  his  own  by  right  of  industry, 
without  the  wronged  one  finding  opportunity  for  redress. 

Less  than  a  score  of  years  ago  dark  superstition  had  the 
tribe  by  the  throat.  Twin  children,  and  those  whose  upper 
teeth  appeared  first,  were  cast  aside  to  die.  The  boiling-pot 
ordeal,  and  the  poison  ordeal  were  in  daily  use,  the  supreme 
test  of  innocence.    Wizards  terrified  the  people  with  reports 


304  CEREALS 

of  their  own  cannibalism,  witch-doctors  by  hideous  rites  or 
sly  tricks  tormented  their  patients,  and  robbed  them  of 
their  goods.  Smallpox  swept  at  intervals  throughout  the 
land,  claiming  thousands  of  victims,  and  people  died  of 
festering  sores  and  wounds  from  wild  beasts  or  passionate 
men,  because  they  knew  of  no  cleansing  treatment  for  their 
trouble. 

To-day  these  hideous  rites  have  disappeared  like  foul 
creatures  of  the  night  before  the  advancing  dawn.  Here 
and  there  the  ordeals  may  still  be  administered,  but  in  secret, 
for  the  public  conscience  has  declared  against  them,  and 
laughs  at  their  claim  to  effectiveness.  No  mother  now  can 
openly  destroy  her  little  one.  No  cannibalistic  wizard  or 
artful  "doctor"  can  terrify  a  community  and  rob  it  of  its 
goods.  Twenty  thousand  of  the  people  have  been  vacci- 
nated, and  an  arresting  hand  has  been  laid  on  the  small- 
pox scourge.  Two  hospitals  now  stand  where  doctors  and 
a  skilled  nurse  treat  five  thousand  patients  every  year, 
saving  many  a  life,  and  restoring  many  a  suffering  invalid 
to  health  and  quiet. 

Twenty  years  ago  little  was  to  be  found  in  the  village 
gardens  but  maize  and  beans,  and  grain  for  beer,  and  every 
year  before  the  crops  could  be  harvested  the  villagers  were 
for  months  in  a  state  of  semi-starvation,  eating  at  the  most 
but  a  scanty  meal  a  day.  Then  the  feeble  children  and  sickly 
adults  died  for  lack  of  nourishment,  and  the  women  sat 
listless  in  their  villages  with  lean  bodies,  or  searched  in  the 
woods  for  roots  and  berries. 

Now,  unless  there  comes  a  year  of  sore  drought,  few 
industrious  men  need  be  hungry  at  any  season.  The  variety 
of  vegetables  in  the  gardens  has  multiplied  at  least  fivefold. 
Patches  of  bananas,  English  potatoes,  rice,  wheat,  and  a  few 
fruit  trees  can  be  found  near  some  villages.  And  although 
less  progress  has  been  made  in  agriculture  than  in  some  other 
occupations,  that  some  advance  has  been  made  is  evident. 


CHRISTIANITY  805 

Twenty-five  years  ago  no  native  in  these  lands  had  seen 
a  book,  could  read  a  syllable,  or  count  accurately  beyond 
ten.  There  was  no  knowledge  of  the  world  further  than  they 
had  seen  with  their  own  eyes,  no  history  other  than  the  tradi- 
tion of  their  fathers.  God  was  for  them  an  absentee  deity, 
and  the  gracious  revelation  of  His  mind  was  hid  from  them. 

To-day  there  are  scattered  throughout  this  land  two 
hundred  and  fifty  schools  and  fifteen  thousand  scholars. 
There  are  five  hundred  natives  engaged  in  the  work  of 
teaching,  and  thousands  of  others  who  can  read.  They 
have  schoolbooks,  and  pamphlets,  religious  books  and, 
above  all,  the  Bible  in  the  Ngoni  and  the  New  Testament  in 
the  Tumbuka  language.  And  the  whole  world  in  which  they 
live,  and  all  the  history  of  the  past,  and  the  knowledge  of 
God  may  be  approached  by  means  of  reading,  that  key  to 
knowledge  which  the  schools  have  given  them. 

Twenty  years  ago  there  was  no  native  Christian  in  these 
lands.  Men  worshipped  in  their  time  of  need  the  spirits  of 
the  great  chiefs  and  of  their  ancestors,  and  crept  into  the 
dark  like  rabbits  that  they  might  die. 

To-day  there  are  twenty  thousand  in  this  land  who 
profess  to  follow  Christ,  and  of  these  more  than  seven 
thousand  have  been  baptized  as  adults  on  profession  of 
their  faith,  or  as  the  little  children  of  Christian  parents. 
There  are  more  than  two  hundred  and  fifty  places  of  wor- 
ship, where  every  day  God's  name  in  honoured  and  His 
evangel  declared.  Two  great  brick  churches,  one  at 
Ekwendeni  and  one  at  Loudon,  large  enough  to  hold  to-  ' 
gether  four  thousand  five  hundred  people,  stand  forth 
by  far  the  largest  and  most  beautiful  buildings  in  the  land, 
visible  reminders  of  the  greatness  and  glory  of  the  God 
to  whose  honour  they  were  built.  Sunday  is  recognized 
throughout  the  tribe  in  some  fashion,  and  it  is  seldom  that 
one  can  see  workers  in  their  gardens  on  that  day.  There  is  a 
general  rest,  if  there  is  not  general  worship,  one  day  in  seven, 
u 


306  ECONOMIC  PROBLEMS 

Yet  we  are  not  a  Christian  land,  and  the  people  are  only 
on  the  threshold  of  civilization.  Crime  is  not  eliminated, 
drunkenness  and  indolence  are  far  more  evident  in  many  a 
village  than  sobriety  and  industry.  Of  the  thousands 
who  would  call  themselves  Christians,  many  are  ignorant, 
and  their  lives  show  little  change.  And  at  the  best  there  are 
still  six  times  as  many  heathen  as  there  are  Christians. 
We  are  only  at  the  dawn  of  the  new  era,  but  it  is  a  dawn 
Avith  the  promise  of  a  full  bright  day. 

It  is  in  no  spirit  of  smug  congratulation  one  records  the 
changes  that  have  come  over  this  nation.  No  one  knows 
better  than  we  do  the  severe  limitations  which  still  surround 
every  movement  to  better  things,  and  the  discounting  that 
must  be  made  for  every  sum  of  progress,  but  our  hopes 
lie  in  facing  the  unaccomplished  with  optimism  and  am- 
bition. There  are  perils  in  front  which  must  be  avoided, 
and  problems  that  must  be  solved,  if  the  progress  of  this 
people  is  to  be  continuous,  until  they  step  into  line  with  the 
advancing  nations  of  civilization,  and  with  the  Church 
which  is  being  formed  in  the  image  of  Christ. 

There  are  great  economic  problems  which  we  mis- 
sionaries alone  cannot  solve.  Government,  too,  must  help. 
One  might  mention  the  whole  question  of  agriculture. 
Unless  the  present  wasteful  methods  are  mended,  the 
land  will  be  deforested,  and  the  soil  become  sterile,  and  the 
people  will  of  necessity  be  forced  every  few  years  to  flit 
to  new  and  richer  lands.  Every  such  flitting  puts  back  the 
tribe  several  years  in  moral  and  general  progress.  So  long, 
too,  as  the  natives  are  allowed  to  cut  down  thousands  of 
trees  when  they  would  open  new  gardens,  and  to  consider 
the  land  free  for  their  new  migrations,  none  will  take  the 
trouble  to  learn  better  methods  of  fertilization,  and  cultiva- 
tion, and  we  shall  soon  see  this  well-wooded  land  as  bare 
as  the  wide  veldts  of  South  Africa. 

It  seems  to  me  that  Government  could  not  only  exercise 


ECONOMIC  PROBLEMS  307 

control  over  the  native  settlements  and  gardens,  but  take 
an  active  part  in  encouraging  right  methods  of  cultivation. 
Then  there  are  the  questions  of  development.  It  does  not 
seem  likely  that  this  country  will  reveal  mineral  wealth 
other  than  iron,  nor  that  it  will  attract  cotton  or  coffee 
plantations,  for  the  soil  is  comparatively  poor.  But  it  has 
vast  wealth  in  cattle,  far  greater  than  any  other  tribe  in 
Central  Africa,  and  some  attempt  ought  to  be  made  to  develop 
this  wealth.  We  ought  to  have  a  resident  veterinary 
surgeon  who  would  investigate  the  cattle  diseases,  which 
every  year  kill  hundreds  of  animals,  and  Government 
should  be  ready  to  spend  money  in  backing  his  recom- 
mendations. We  ought  to  see  better  stock  introduced  to 
improve  the  present  breed,  and  the  natives  taught  how 
to  care  better  for  their  animals.  I  cannot  think  that  the 
only  key  to  progress  in  this  country  is  to  tap  its  people 
for  labour  for  cotton  plantations  and  for  the  mines  of 
Rhodesia,  and  I  am  sure  that  if  Government  were  anxious 
to  let  them  see  that  they  are  having  some  other  return  for 
their  hut-taxes  than  merely  payment  of  the  magistrates' 
salaries,  and  the  maintenance  of  native  police,  they  would 
immensely  increase  the  loyalty  of  the  people,  and  impress 
them  with  a  sense  of  their  paternal  altruism. 

I  acknowledge  that  some  little  is  being  done,  and  that 
Government  is  severely  handicapped  by  the  fact  that  the 
colony  is  not  yet  self-supporting.  Vaccination  of  the  whole 
people  has  almost  been  accomplished.  Some  roads  have 
been  made,  but  their  purpose  is  more  evident  to  the  Euro- 
pean than  to  the  native.  And  a  small  sum  of  a  little  over 
£100  is  allocated  to  education.  But  I  have  not  the  feeling, 
and  the  native  certainly  has  not,  that  serious  efforts,  com- 
mensurate with  the  money  they  pay  in  taxes,  are  being 
made  for  their  progress. 

At  the  same  time  we  must  face  the  fact  that  their  growing 
wealth  may  greatly  materialize  the  minds   of  the  people. 


808    DANGERS  AND  PROBLEMS 

and  that  the  desire  for  more  money  may  swamp  their  better 
ambitions.  Missionaries  in  other  tribes  nearer  the  labour 
markets  have  found  how  these  temptations  have  mihtated 
against  educational  and  Church  work  and  spoiled  some  of 
the  better  village  morals  and  industries.  As  it  is,  we  now 
know  something  of  the  harm  as  well  as  the  good  that  has 
come  to  us  by  the  rush  to  the  mines  of  South  Africa.  I  do 
not  think  the  high  wages  there  have  much  hurt  our  local 
wages,  for  there  is  always  a  superabundance  of  local  labour 
offered  by  those  to  whom  the  long  journey  south  is  not 
attractive.  But  there  are  thousands  of  young  men  who  have 
gone  south  and  never  returned.  Some  of  them  have  died, 
others  have  fallen  into  an  immoral  cesspool  out  of  which 
they  will  never  be  able  to  extricate  themselves.  Away  from 
the  restraints  of  their  village  life,  with  more  money  passing 
through  their  hands  than  they  know  how  to  use,  with  seduc- 
tive opportunities  for  vice  around  them,  they  have  dis- 
honoured their  name,  and  will  never  again  face  their  own 
people.  I  once  asked  one  of  my  elders  how  it  was  that 
there  was  not  a  greater  increase  of  population,  considering 
that  war  no  longer  claims  its  annual  tale  of  victims.  His 
answer  was,  "  There  is  more  deadly  war  to-day.  It  is  the 
mines  of  South  Africa." 

I  see  dangers  and  problems,  too,  for  our  schools,  and  they 
may  be  summed  up  in  these  words.  Unless  our  educational 
system  broadens  and  deepens  with  the  new  opportunities  of 
each  new  year,  we  shall  find  ourselves  in  a  back  eddy  while 
the  stream  flows  past.  We  must  not  be  content  with  the 
simplicity  of  the  past.  We  must  aim  at  greater  efficiency, 
and  widen  the  influence  of  the  schools  so  that  education 
may  mean  something  more  than  a  knowledge  of  books, 
and  a  mechanical  arithmetic.  Otherwise  we  shall  not 
fulfil  our  responsibilities  to  the  tribe. 

When  one  looks  upon  the  Church,  the  task  before  us  seems 
overwhelming.    There  is  the  peril  of  increasing  numbers,  lest 


DANGERS  AND  PROBLEMS    309 

the  purity  and  true  religion  of  the  Church  be  swamped  by  a 
great  mass  of  superficial  formalism.  When  those  who  confessed 
Christ  were  few,  and  subject  to  much  petty  persecution,  it  was 
easier  to  scrutinize  the  entrants.  But  when  it  becomes  the 
ordinary  thing  for  every  intelligent  young  person  to  pro- 
claim himself  a  Christian,  and  through  the  more  universally 
diffused  knowledge  to  be  able  to  answer  pat  all  questions  on 
religion,  it  is  hard  to  see  who  really  have  come  to  the  living 
Christ.  Because  of  the  great  numbers  who  profess  Him, 
their  spiritual  nurture  and  growth,  the  discipline  of  the  un- 
worthy, and  the  protection  of  the  Church  from  the  demorali- 
zation which  inevitably  sets  in  from  cases  of  sin  within  its 
membership,  these  all  become  increasingly  difficult.  The 
raising  up  of  an  intelligent.  God-fearing  native  pastorate, 
the  increase  of  the  spirit  of  liberality  and  of  service,  that  the 
Church  may  not  lean  in  dependence  on  European  crutches, 
these  are  among  our  first  tasks.  And  with  them,  too,  must 
go  the  preparation  of  a  suitable  literature  in  the  vernacular, 
that  knowledge  may  grow  from  more  to  more,  and  the  Church 
members  may  be  wise  to  resist  evil  and  follow  good,  and  to 
know  God. 

We  are  only  at  the  beginning  of  things,  and  the  questions 
ahead  are  more  complex  than  those  we  have  left  behind 
solved.  But  the  future  is  "as  bright  as  the  promises  of 
God."  For  this  we  do  know,  that  we  are  not  alone.  God 
is  with  us,  and  all  the  forces  that  obey  His  will,  and  all  the 
wisdom  He  gives  so  liberally,  and  all  power  are  ours  when 
we  work  in  so  holy  a  Fellowship. 

The  End 


APPENDICES 

NGONI 

NGONI  is  the  root  word,  meaning,  I  believe,  "the 
foreign  people."  According  to  Bleek,  it  was  given 
to  the  race  by  the  Tonga  who  live  about  Delagoa 
Bay,  and  was  originally  Nguni.  A  single  individual  is 
Mu-Ngoni,  the  plural  Ba-Ngoni.  The  language  is  Chi-Ngoni, 
and  the  land  Bu-Ngoni.  The  usual  prefixes  for  the  plural 
in  Central  African  dialects  are  ha  or  a  ;  hence  most  Central 
African  tribes  speak  of  them  as  A-Ngoni,  But  it  is  as 
grammatically  correct  to  say  a  Germans  as  to  say  an  A-Ngoni, 
though  the  people  are  usually  spoken  of  as  Angoni  by  Euro- 
peans. The  Ngoni  are  also  known  as  Amangoni,  Mangoni, 
Mazitu,  Maviti,  Bazowa,  Batuta,  Mapuli,  Mangwangwara, 
these  being  local  names.  Under  these  varied  appellations 
mention  of  them,  in  widely  scattered  parts  of  Africa,  will 
be  found  in  the  books  of  Livingstone,  Stanley,  and  numer- 
ous other  travellers.  If  we  would  avoid  the  great  variation 
of  prefixes  which  are  used  by  the  differing  Central  African 
tribes,  such  as  Aba-Ngoni,  Ba-Ngoni,  Ma-Ngoni,  A-Ngoni, 
it  is  simpler  to  use  the  unvarying  root  for  them  and  for  all 
other  tribes.  So  I  have  written  throughout  the  root  name, 
such  as  Ngoni,  Tumbuka,  Senga,  etc. 

ANCESTRY  OF  NGONI  CHIEFS 

The  earliest  known  ancestor  of  the  chief  is  Lonyanda. 
He  was  succeeded  by  his  son  Magangati,  and  he  by  his  son 

311 


312  APPENDIX 

Mhlutshwayo,  who  was  followed  by  his  younger  brother 
Mafu.  On  Mafu's  death  Zongwendaba,  the  son  of  Mhlutsh- 
wayo, succeeded.  The  wanderings  of  the  people  began  in 
the  days  of  Magangati,  I  think.  Zongwendaba  inherited 
the  chieftainship  shortly  before  the  Ngoni  arrived  at  the 
Zambesi. 

The  surname  of  the  royal  family  is  Jere  (meaning  a  bull 
elephant),  but  it  was  originally  Tole,  and  the  present  name 
was  adopted  some  time  before  crossing  the  Zambesi. 

THE  NAME   MOMBERA 

This  chief  is  now  known  among  Europeans  as  Mombera. 
But  his  name  really  was  Umbela  (from  ukumbela,  to  bury). 
The  tendency  in  most  Nyasa  tribes  is  to  change  the  /  sound 
to  r  ;  hence  he  was  frequently  called  Umbera,  and  Euro- 
peans, not  hearing  accurately,  called  him  Mombera,  which 
name  has  been  practically  adopted  by  the  natives  out  of 
courtesy  and  deference  to  Europeans. 

WANDERING   OF  THE  NGONI 

When  Zongwendaba  crossed  the  Zambesi  internal  dis- 
sension had  already  begun  to  appear  among  his  people, 
and  he  left  behind  them  a  section  under  Mungwara,  a 
Karanga  leader.  One  day,  when  there  was  a  total  eclipse 
of  the  sun,  Zongwendaba 's  followers  crossed  the  Zambesi 
near  Zumbo  and  marched  into  the  country  of  the  Senga. 
There  they  found  a  people  feeble  and  unable  to  resist  them, 
so  they  took  their  land,  and  for  six  years  remained  there, 
incorporating  many  of  their  people  into  the  regiments. 
They  must  have  gathered  a  number  of  their  medicine  men 
especially,  for  nearly  all  the  "  witch-doctors  "  of  the  tribe 
to-day  are  Senga. 

Leaving  Senga  country,  the  Ngoni  marched  with  only 


APPENDIX  813 

short  rests  until  they  came  to  Chulu's  country,  a  few  miles 
to  the  west  of  where  Loudon  station  is  built  to-day.  Here 
they  were  in  the  Chewa  and  Tumbuka  country,  a  land 
which  was  eventually  to  become  the  permanent  resting- 
place  of  a  great  section  of  the  tribe.  Meanwhile,  Mungwara 
crossed  the  Zambesi  near  Molambala  Mountains  with  the 
section  of  the  Ngoni  who  had  remained  with  him,  fought 
his  way  up  the  east  side  of  Lake  Nyasa,  and  there  settled. 
To-day  the  Ngoni  on  the  east  side,  after  spending  some 
years  in  Chulu's  country,  are  called  the  Mangwangwara. 
Zongwendaba  pushed  on  to  the  north,  remaining  for  only 
a  year  or  two  at  various  points,  until  at  last  he  died  in  the 
country  of  the  Sukuma.  After  his  death  wild  fighting  and 
massacres  took  place  over  the  succession.  One  section, 
which  claimed  the  chieftainship  for  the  children  of  Ntabeni 
Jere,  a  younger  brother  of  Zongwendaba,  was  driven  off 
and  fled  to  Ugomba,  where  they  settled,  and  were  acting 
as  banditti  for  the  Rugaruga  slavers  when  Stanley  made 
his  first  memorable  journey  across  Africa  and  saw  their 
plunderous  activities.  But  the  main  section  acknowledged 
another  brother,  Mgai,  and  under  him  fought  their  way 
still  farther  north  until  they  came  within  sight  of  Victoria 
Nyanza  at  Speke  Gulf.  They  thought  the  land  there  too 
poor  for  settlement,  and  returned  to  Sukuma  country.  On 
the  way  there  the  elected  chief  died,  and  again  disputes 
arose  about  the  succession.  Mpezeni,  the  eldest  son  of 
Zongwendaba,  but  not  by  his  principal  wife,  was  chosen 
chief,  and  the  army  went  west  to  prove  by  its  prowess  his 
right  to  his  kingdom.  It  was  hopelessly  defeated,  however, 
and  came  back  with  no  trophies,  so  his  claim  was  not 
established.  The  main  portion  of  the  indunas  then  sought 
to  give  the  crown  to  Mombera,  who  had  been  nominated 
by  Zongwendaba  as  his  successor.  But  Mpezeni  would  not 
yield  up  his  claim,  and  along  with  his  brother  Mperembe 
led  off  a  section  of  the  tribe  to  the  south  end  of  Tanganyika, 


314  APPENDIX 

and  from  thence  raided  as  far  as  Bangweolo.  These  are 
the  Batiita,  whose  neighbourhood  terrified  Livingstone's 
caravan  during  his  last  wanderings  about  the  shores  of 
Bangweolo. 

Another  division,  under  an  induna  called  Zulu  Gama, 
who  aspired  to  chieftainship,  hived  off  to  the  south  and 
passed  down  to  the  east  side  of  Lake  Nyasa  until  they  met 
the  Ngoni  under  Mangwara  (Mputa  Maseko),  and  joined 
hands  with  them.  These  are  the  Maviti,  over  whose  ruin- 
ous tracks  Livingstone  passed  when  he  was  marching  from 
the  coast  to  Lake  Nyasa  on  his  last  expedition.  They  are 
the  Mangwangwara  of  to-day  who  have  caused  so  much 
trouble  in  the  German  and  Portuguese  protectorates. 

Meanwhile  in  the  north  strife  between  Mpezeni  and  his 
brothers  was  becoming  very  threatening,  and  again  a  move- 
ment towards  the  south  began.  First  a  great  induna, 
Chiwerewere  Ndhlovu,  taking  with  him  some  of  the  Jere 
children,  started  off  with  a  considerable  following  and  passed 
rapidly  down  the  plateau  of  West  Nj^asa,  until  he  settled 
on  the  hills  overlooking  Domira  Bay,  and  from  this  point 
subjugated  the  Chewa,  Chipeta,  and  N3^anja  people.  These 
are  the  Central  Angoni  of  to-day  and  the  Mazitu  whom 
Livingstone  met  on  his  first  journey  inland  from  the  Lake 
via  Kasungu.  Two  or  three  years  after  Chiwerewere  had 
left  the  main  body  of  the  tribe,  with  all  its  great  indunas 
and  most  of  Zongwendaba's  sons,  started  hastily  for  the 
south,  and  arrived  on  the  plateau  above  the  Henga  Valley, 
near  the  site  of  Ekwendeni  station.  From  this  vantage 
ground  they  swooped  down  on  the  great  chief  Chikura- 
mayembe  and  annihilated  his  stockades.  The  election  of  a 
paramount  chief  then  took  place,  and  Mtwaro  Jere  was 
nominated,  but  he  refused  the  office,  and  the  indunas  had 
now  to  fall  back  on  the  original  choice  of  Zongwendaba, 
and  appoint  Mombera  Jere  chief  of  all  the  Ngoni.  For  the 
next  six  or  seven  years  the  tribe  settled  about  the  Lun- 


APPENDIX  315 

yangwa  River,  and  then  spread  out  to  the  Kasitu  Valley 
and  subjugated  all  the  people  of  this  part  of  Nyasaland, 
gathering  about  them  the  Tonga,  Tumbuka,  Senga,  Chewa, 
Henga,  and  other  tribes.  These  are  the  Northern  or 
Mombera's  Ngoni  of  to-day. 

Shortly  after  Mombera's  people  came  to  Nyasaland 
Mpezeni,  who  had  been  left  on  the  plateau  near  Tanganyika, 
also  started  for  the  south,  and,  passing  down  the  Loangwa 
Valley,  settled  finally  on  the  hills  about  the  present  Fort 
Jameson.  He  had  left  his  younger  brother  Mperembe  be- 
hind him  near  the  cruel  Wemba  tribe,  and  war  after  war 
proving  too  much  for  Mperembe,  he  too  followed  the  others 
and  joined  Mombera. 

This,  in  brief,  seems  to  be  the  story  of  the  Ngoni  move- 
ments. It  should  be  added  that  on  the  death  of  Mungwara 
the  Gama  section  who  had  come  south  from  Zongwendaba's 
people  contended  for  the  chieftainship  on  the  east  side  of 
the  Lake,  and  defeating  Gomane,  the  son  of  Mungwara, 
drove  him  and  most  of  his  people  year  by  year  farther  and 
farther  back,  until  they  fled  across  the  Shire  River  near 
Matope  and  settled  on  the  hills  to  the  north.  From  thence 
they  raided  south  and  east.  They  are  the  Mazitu  who  struck 
such  great  terror  into  the  hearts  of  Livingstone's  followers 
that  some  deserted  and  reported  his  death.  It  was  they 
also  who  had  burned  and  slain  along  the  Shire  Valley  when 
Livingstone  was  on  his  second  expedition  until  the  populous 
valley  had  become  a  blackened  wilderness.  To-day  they 
are  known  as  Gomane's  or  Chikusi's  Ngoni. 


INDEX 


Administration,   coming  of,   239- 

44 
Adventures,  102 
Agencies  of  civilization,  301 
Agriculture,     progress     of,     304 ; 

problems  of,  306-7 
Ancestral  spirits,  126—8,  160 
Ancestry  of  Ngoni  chiefs,  311-12 
Annexation,  242 
Applicants  for  baptism,  94,  95 
Army,  march  of,  35  ;  retvu'n,  39 
Arrival  at  village,  45 
Arrival  in  Ngoniland,  17-26 
Arrows,  135 
Assault  on  stockade,  37 
Awakening,  religious,  89-100 

Babel,  24,  25 

Bandawe,  19,  20 

Bayete,  30,  45,  49,  107 

Bazukuru,  157-9,  253 

Beer,  32,  96,  97,  185,  264 

Begging,  50 

Betrothal,  50 

Bible  in  Zulu,  30 

Birth  of  children,  148 

Bone-setters,  141 

Bows,  135 

Boxer,  Dr.  and  Mrs.,  290 

Boyhood,  151 

Bridges,  65 

Bua,  114 

Building  a  station,  191  ;   Loudon, 

221-4;   a  village,  207-13 
Burial,     157  ;      alive,     149,     161  ; 

of  a  chief,  161,  255-6 
Bush,  in  the,  56-66 
Bwabwa,  24 
Bwati,  117 

Cardew,  Mr.,  105,  108 

Care  of  widows  and  helpless,  99 


Catechumens,  229,  273 

Carriers,  44,  59 

Cattle,  75,  186 

Cattle-kraal,  204,  207 

Chaka,  27 

Chalmers,  Capt.,  19 

Chewa,  77,  114;  appearance  of,  72 

Chiefs  of  Ngoni,  28,  31 

Chikang'ombe,  24,  121 

Chikuramayembe,  116-17 

Chikusi,  315 

Chikwa,  85,  299 

Children,  73-4,  151 

Chinde,  231-33 

Chiwerewere,  314 

Christianity,  progress  of,  305 

Church  at  Loudon,  223 

Church,  problems  of  the,  309 

Civilization,     increase     of,     192  ; 

progress  of,  301,  305 
Civil  organization,  32 
Commandments  of  women,  152 
Commercial  standard,  new,  193 
Conspiracy  against  Ng'onomo,  52 
Conimdriuns,  171 
Councillors,  45 
Creating  Christian  character,  266, 

268-9 

Dances,  75-6,  183 

Daniel,  103 

Dawn,  63 

Day  on  the  station,  a,  270-8 

Deacons,  267 

Death,  ceremonies  at,  156 

Death  of  a  chief,  245-58 

Demons,  147 

Demoralization  of  Ngoni,  33 

Deputy-commissioner,    109-10 

Difficulties,  217 

Diseases,  139-47,  191,  304 

Disintegration  of  Tumbuka,  118 


317 


318 


INDEX 


Disorderly  communities,  215 

Disorder,  tribal,  240 

Divorce,  155 

Doctors,    140-2,    147,    165,     199, 

203 
Domira,  19 
Dowry,  184 
Dreams,  124 
Drunkenness,  198 
Dwangwa,  114 

Earthquakes,  132,  245 

Eclipse,  131,  235-8 

Education,  progress  of,  305 

Ekwendeni  station,  21,  42 

Elders,  267 

Elephants,  136-7 

Elmslie,  Dr.  and  Mrs.,  22,  25,  42, 

239 
Emotion,  93 
Enlarging  the  scliool,  91 
Etiquette,  44 

Europeans  in  Ngoniland,  190 
Evangelists,  262 
Evangelizing,  259-69 
Extent  of  country,  56 

Feeding  the  child,  150 
Filibuster,  story  of  a,  101-11 
Floor-making,  212 

Gathering  of  the  army,  35 

Girls,  73 

Goats,  74 

God,  121 

God,  sub-,  24,  121 

Gomane,  315 

Grain-stores,  208 

Hare,  story  of  a,  176-7 
Henderson,  Mr.  Riddell,  222,  226 
Henga  Valley,  29,  77 
Hen-house,  208 
Herbal  medicine,  140 
Hills,  sacred,  122 
Honey-bird,  60 
Hora,  26,  42,  196-201 
Horizon,  mystery  of,  43 
Hunters,  135 
Hunting,  134-8,  294-6 
Hut  taxes,  244 
Hyena  story,  172 


Ilala,  18 

Immortality,  126 

Impi,  description  of,  35-40 

Impostors,  199 

Introduction  to  chiefs,  41-55 

Industrial  work,  89 

Industry,  problems  of,  308 

Infant  mortality,  139 

Infidelity,  protection  against,  164 

Inwood,  Mr.,  280-8 

Iron- working,  118,  183 

Ivory,  185 

Justice,  31,  163 

Kamanga,  117 

Kampungu,  116 

Kasitu,  196 

Kasungu,  77 

Kayeyi,  198-200 

Kazembe,  290-2 

Kraal,  building  a  cattle-,  204 

Labour,  192 
La^erda,  114 
Language,  30,  32,  187-9 
Lawlessness,  198 
Leopard,  62,  68 
Lightning,  65 
Lions,  69 

Livingstone,  19,  114 
Locusts,  201 
Loudon,  214-25 
Loudon,  Dr.,  219 
Luangwa  Valley,  84 
Lwasoze,  206 

Maccallum,  Mr.,  197 

Macdonald,  Mr.  H.  C,  243 

Mad  headman,  a   229 

Magic,  136,  142,  143,  164 

Magwangwara,  29 

Mangazi,  121-2 

Mangwara,  314 

Man's  work  in  building,  209 

Marambo,  78 

Marriage,     153—4  ;     dowry,    184 ; 

service,  Ciiristian,  274 
Maurau,  31,  43,  246 
Maviti,  29 
Mazitu,  29 
Mbalekelwa,  47-50 


INDEX 


319 


Mbona,  122 

Mboni,  121 

Mgai.  313 

Migration,  202,  215 

Mission  work,  method,  of,  89-90 

Mkuzo,  48-50 

Modifications,  181-95 

Mombera,  29,  30,  51  ;    the  name, 

312 
Monkey  Bay,  18 
Moon,  75,  131 
Morning  in  a  village,  70 
MortaUty,  infant,  139 
Mother  of  the  chief,  50 
Mourning,  159 

Mperembe,,  31  43-7,  48,  49,  92,  313 
Mpezeni,  313 
Msoro  tree,  128 
Mtwaro,  31 
Mm-der,  216,  232 
Music,  native,  68 
Muzuku-zuku,  26,  196-7,  246-58 

Names  of  Ngoni,  29 

Natural  science  of  Tumbuka, 
130-3 

Night  in  a  village,  68 

Njenjewe  Mt.,  24 

Ngoni,  27-33 ;  appearance  of, 
72  ;  chiefs,  28  ;  language,  30  ; 
meaning  of  name,  311  ;  names, 
29,  311  ;  origin,  28  ;  secret  of 
strength,  29  ;  tribal  organiza- 
tion, 30  ;    wanderings,  27-9 

Ng'onomo,  32,  50-5,  235-8,  245 

Njuyu,  41,  42,  102 

Ntabeni,  313 

Old  people  and  Christianity,  95 
Opposition,  218 
Organization  of  Ngoni,  30 

Pacification  of  Ngoni,  41 

Paths,  60 

Payment  in  slaves,  167 

Pigeons,  70,  74 

Pioneering     among     the      Senga, 

77-88 
Pitamkusa,  117 
Pitching  the  tent,  67 
Poison,  144 
Poisoned  arrows,  135 


Polygamy,  97 
Pools,  sacred,  123 
Prayer-meeting,  a,  277 
Prentice,  Dr.,  21 
Preparation  for  tour,  43 
Preparation  for  war,  35 
Presents,  46,  47 
Progress  and  problems,  301-9 
Prospectors,   103 
Proverbs,  170 
Puberty,  57,  151-2 
Punitive  expedition,  216-17 

Raid,  description  of,  35-40 

Raids,  29 

Rainbow,  132 

Rains,  64,  133 

Reconcihation,  167 

Red  Riding  Hood,  173 

Regenerative  force,  91 

Regiments,  36 

Rehgion  of  Tumbuka,  120-9 

Religious  awakening,  89-100 

Results  of  awakening,  94 

Retributive  disease,  145 

River  scenes,   17 

River,  swollen,  66 

Roads,  59,  227 

Roman  Catholic  missions,  290 

Sacred  hills,  122;  pools,  123; 
trees,  123 

Salutations,  25,  30,  45,  187 

Scattering  of  the  people,  202 

Scenery  at  Ekwendeni,  23 

School-house,  227-8 

Schools,  41-55,  90,  227-30,  259, 
271 

Scott,  Dr.,  105,  106 

Seasons,  132 

Second  sight,  125 

Senga,  77-88  ;  appeal  for,  93  ; 
chiefs,  86  ;  dirt,  82  ;  language, 
86 ;  meaning  of  name,  87  ; 
origin,  86,  115  ;  physical  ap- 
pearance, 85  ;  stockades,  80-3  ; 
visit  to,  289-300 

Serfs,  31 

Sharpe,  Sir  Alfred,  241-2 

Sheep,  186 

Sickness  of  Muzuku-zuku,  248-9 

Site  of  Loudon,  205 


320 


INDEX 


Sleeping  sickness,  291 

Small-pox,  190 

Smelting,  183 

Snakes,  61 

Snakes  and  spirits,  127 

Sorcery,  143 

Steel,  Dr.,  23 

Store-work,  220 

Stories,  172-181 

Story  of  a  filibuster,  101-11 

Stuart,  Mr.,  22,  43,  47,  92 

Sub-gods,  121 

Succession  of  chiefs,  48 

Sun,  130 

Taxes,  hut,  244 

Teachers,  260 

Tembwe,  82,  83 

Thatching,  210 

Thirst,  80,  87 

Tooth-pulling,  141 

Tour,  a,  43,  47,  226-38 

Traps,  hunting,  135 

Travel,  methods  of,  57-9 

Trees,  sacred,  123 

Trial  of  fiUbuster,  109-10 

Trial,  a  native,  233 

Truth,  presenting,  263 

Tsetse  flies,  292-3 

Tumbuka,  112-95;  appearance 
of,  72  ;  birth  to  death,  148-62  ; 
diseases,  139-47  ;  disintegra- 
tion, 118;  history,  113,  114; 
hunting,  134-8  ;  legal  pro- 
cedure, 163-8  ;  natural  science, 
130-3  ;  original  distribution, 
115-16;  religion  of,  120-9; 
reorganization,  119 


Turbulent  scenes,  250 

Ufwiti,  143,  164-5 

Umsindo,  57 

Unfaithfulness,  penalty  of,  146 

Veracity,  98 

Vermin,  213 

Vernacular  changes,  194 

Vibi,  216 

Vicarious  justice,  166 

Village,  life  in  a,  67-76 ;   fixing  a 

site  of,  203  ;   form  of  a,  208 
Villagers,  71-3 
Vipya,  64 
Visitors,  273 

Waiting,  256 

Wanderings  of  Ngoni,  27-9,  312- 

15 
War,  34-40 
War-herald,  34-5 
Wealth,  increase  of,  303 
Weeding  out  applicants,  95 
Wild  life,  60,  61 
Witchcraft,  142-3 
Witch-doctors,  214 
Wisdom  of  the  people,  169-81 
Women,  73 
Women's  work  in  building,  211-13 

Young  men,  32,  44 

Zambesi,  18 

Zongwendaba,  28,  214,  312 
Zulu,  27,  30 
Zulu  Gama,  314 


WILLIAM    BREMDON   AND  SON,   LTO. 

PRINTERS,    PLYMOUTH 


Date^  Due 


BW9640  .F844 

Winning  a  primitive  people;  sixteen 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary-Speer  Library 


1    1012  00077  4507 


,  l4.^^->,.    »!  J 


'  '/'--•''.  -^t.-.  "■^l 


1   f,'^''.^  fl'!.  ', 


}h  .  ''  '    'I  J  V)' 


■■':!■  :;?;I^#^?i!;;lkv, 


■':*;<'-'^:v. 


'_■  .  .'■i--';r-.'-i;'.;-,J 


